"It appears to me, Mr. Rugg, that you have prospered," said the lady.
"That's where you're right, ma'am, and you couldn't be righter."
"I'm as poor as I can be."
"So am I," said the tramp, adding, with a cunning look, "but times will be better now."
"Why will they be better?" asked Mrs. Middleton, suspiciously.
"Tony won't see me want when he comes into ten thousand a year."
"Who said he was coming into it?" demanded the lady, coldly.
"You said he was the heir."
"He hasn't got the estate, and I don't mean he shall have it."
"How will you prevent that ma'am?"
Mrs. Middleton again put her hand on the man's tattered coat sleeve, and in a voice scarcely above a whisper, said:
"Mr. Rugg, you must prevent it."
"How can I prevent it?" asked the tramp, with an assumption of innocence.
"I take it, you are not a religious man?"
"Not much," answered the tramp, with a short laugh.
"You are not afraid—to do wrong?"
"Yes, I am, ma'am; but if I was paid for it I might not mind."
"You shall be paid, and paid well."
"What do you want me to do?"
Mrs. Middleton said, with slow significance:
"This boy is in my way. Don't you think he might manage to get sick and die?"
"Perhaps he might," said Rudolph, who did not appear to be shocked at the suggestion.
"Couldn't you manage it?" she asked, her eyes fixed upon the tramp.
"I might," he answered, shrewdly, "if it was going to do me any good."
"Then the only question is as to pay," she continued.
"That's about it ma'am. It's a big risk, you know. I might get caught, and then money wouldn't do me much good."
"Nothing venture, nothing have. You don't want to be a pauper all your life?"
"No, I don't," answered the tramp with energy. "I'm tired of tramping round the country, sleeping in barns and under hay-stacks, and picking up meals where I can. I've had enough of it."
"Do as I wish, and you need never suffer such privations again," said the tempter.
"How much will you give me?" asked Rudolph, in a business-like manner.
"Five hundred dollars down and five hundred dollars income as long as you live."
This was good fortune of which Rudolph had never dreamed, but he understood how to make the best of the situation.
"It is not enough," he said, shaking his head.
"Not enough!" exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, with a look of displeasure. "Why, it seems to me very liberal. You can live comfortably all your life just for doing one thing."
"A thing which may bring me to the gallows. It's all very well to talk, but I can't risk my neck for that."
The lady was not surprised. She had expected that she would be compelled to drive a bargain, and and she had named a sum less than she was willing to pay.
"You see," continued Rudolph, "it's going to be a great thing for you. You'll be sure of a big estate and an income of two thousand pounds—that's ten thousand dollars—a year, and it'll be me that gives it to you."
"You overestimate your services, Mr. Rugg," she said, coldly. "If I decline to proceed further the estate will be mine."
"Not if I bring on the boy, and say he's the real heir."
"I shall deny it," said the lady, composedly, "and challenge you to the proof."
"You will?" queried the tramp, disconcerted.
"Of course I shall."
"Then I'll prove it," he continued, in tone of triumph.
"Who will believe you?" asked Mrs. Middleton, quietly.
"Why shouldn't they?"
"You are a tramp, and a discreditable person. Your appearance would be against you. I suspect the boy is one of the same sort."
"No, he isn't. I don't like him overmuch, but he's a handsome chap, looks the gentleman every inch, even if he is dressed a little shabby."
"I should charge you with conspiracy, Mr. Rugg. You'd find it uphill work fighting me without influence and without money. To begin with, how would you get over to England?"
As presented by Mrs. Middleton, certainly the chances did not look flattering.
But an idea occurred to Rudolph, and he instantly expressed it:
"Then, if there ain't no danger from me or the boy, why do you offer me anything to put him out of the way?"
Mrs. Middleton hesitated.
"I may as well tell you," she said, after a moment's pause. "I take it for granted you will keep the matter secret."
"Of course I will."
"Then it is this: I married Mr. Harvey Middleton to secure a home and a position. I didn't love him."
"Quite right, ma'am."
"I was a poor governess. It was a great thing for me to marry Mr. Middleton."
"I should think so."
"I made him a good wife. He had no reason to complain of me, and when he died he left me in charge of the estate."
"For the boy?"
"Yes, for the boy, and this has given me trouble."
"He hasn't never troubled you."
"Not yet, and but for one thing I would not have come to America in search of him."
"What is that?"
"That is the secret I am going to tell you. I want to marry again."
The tramp whistled.
Mrs. Middleton frowned, but went on:
"This time I love the man I want to marry. He is from an excellent family, but he is a younger son, and has little or nothing himself. If the estate were mine absolutely, there would be no opposition on the part of his family to his marrying me to-morrow, but with the knowledge that the boy may turn up at any time, nothing will be done."
"I see," said the tramp, nodding.
"But for this, I never would have stirred in the matter at all. I did not think it probable that the boy would ever hear of his inheritance."
"He don't even know who he is," said Rudolph.
"You never told him, then?" said the lady in a tone of satisfaction.
"No. What was the good?"
"There was no good, and you did wisely. Now I have told you how matters stand, and I renew the offer which I made you a few minutes since."
"It is too little," said the tramp, shaking his head.
"Tell me what you expect. Mind, I don't say that I will meet your views if they are extravagant. Still I might agree to pay you a little more."
"I want just double what you offered me, ma'am."
"Why, that's extortion."
"That's as you choose to consider it, ma'am. It'll leave you money enough. It's one-tenth."
"Suppose I refuse."
"Then I'll go and see a lawyer, and he'll tell me what I had better do."
"Even if you succeeded, and got the boy in possession, do you think he would give you any more than I offered?"
This was a consideration which had not occurred to the tramp. He had only thought of punishing the lady for not acceding to his terms. He asked himself, moreover, did he really wish Tony to come into such a piece of good fortune, and that after the boy had been instrumental in having him arrested. No, anything but that! He decided to work for Mrs. Middleton, and make the best terms he could.
"I'll tell you what I'll do ma'am," he said. "I'll say eight hundred dollars down, and the same every year."
To this sum Mrs. Middleton finally agreed.
"You say you know where the boy is?" she asked.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Then there need be no delay."
"Only a little. But I shall want some money. I haven't a penny."
Mrs. Middleton took out her purse.
"Here are a hundred dollars," she said. "The rest shall be paid you when you have earned it."
Rudolph rose to go, and as he went down stairs thoughtfully, he said to himself:
"That woman's a case if ever there was one. How coolly she hires me to kill the boy. I don't half like the job. It's too risky. But there's money in it, and I can't refuse. The first thing is to find him!"
The tramp decided that the best way to find Tony would be to return to that part of the country where he had lost him, and make inquiries for a boy of his description. He could do it more comfortably now, being provided with funds, thanks to Mrs. Middleton. He was now able to command fair accommodations, and this was satisfactory.
But there was another difficulty which, at times, gave him uneasiness. He had escaped from the custody of the law, and was liable to be arrested. This would have disconcerted him, and interfered seriously with the purpose he had in view.
"I must disguise myself," thought Rudolph. "It won't do to run any risk. When I was a tramp I didn't care, but now I've got something to live for."
It was not the first time in his varied experience that he had felt the need of a disguise, and he knew just where to go to find one. In the lower part of the city there was a shop well provided with such articles as he required. He lost no time in seeking it out.
"What can I do for you, Mr. Rugg?" asked the old man who kept the establishment.
"I want a disguise."
"Then you've come to the right shop. What will you be—a sailor, a Quaker, a—"
"Hold, there," said Rudolph. "You've named the very thing."
"What?"
"A Quaker. Can you make me a good broad-brim?"
"Yea, verily," answered the old man, laughing, "I can suit thee to a T."
"Do so, then."
From out a pile of costumes of various styles and fashions the old man drew a suit of drab and a broad-brimmed hat.
"How will that do?" he asked.
"Capital!" answered Rudolph, with satisfaction, "that is, if it will fit."
"I'll answer for that. It's made for a man of your size. Will you try it on?"
"First tell me the price."
"Thirty dollars."
"Thirty dollars!" exclaimed the tramp, aghast. "Do you think I am made of money?"
"Look at the quality, my good friend. Look at the cloth."
"Why, I may not want the things for more than a week."
"Then, I'll tell you what I'll do. If you only use them a week, you shall bring them back, and I will pay you back twenty-five dollars; that is," added the old man cautiously, "if you don't hurt 'em too much."
"That's better," said Rudolph. "I'll try them on."
He went into an inner room, provided for the purpose, and soon came out entirely transformed. In addition to the drab suit, a gray wig had been supplied, which gave him the appearance of a highly respectable old Quaker.
The old man laughed heartily, for he had a merry vein.
"How dost thee like it?" he asked.
"Capital," said Rudolph; "would you know me?"
"I wouldn't dream it was you. But, Mr. Rugg, there's one thing you mustn't forget."
"What's that?"
"To use the Quaker lingo. Just now you said, 'Would you know me?' That isn't right."
"What should I say?"
"Would thee know me?"
"All right. I'll get it after a while. There's your money."
"There you are again. You must say thy money."
"I see you know all about it. You've been a Quaker yourself, haven't you?"
"Not I; but I was brought up in Philadelphia, and I have seen plenty of the old fellows. That's right. Now, don't forget how to talk. Where are you going?"
"Into the country on a little expedition," said Rudolph.
"When will you be back?"
"In a week, if all goes well."
"Well, good luck to you."
"I wish thee good luck, too," said the tramp.
"Ha, ha! You've got it; you'll do."
The tramp emerged into the street, a very fair representative of a sedate Quaker. At first he forgot his gray hair, and walked with a briskness that was hardly in character with his years. He soon attracted the attention of some street boys, who, not suspecting his genuineness, thought him fair game.
"How are you, old Broadbrim?" said one.
Rudolph didn't resent this. He felt rather pleased at this compliment to his get up.
"You'd make a good scarecrow, old buffer," said another.
Still the tramp kept his temper.
A third boy picked up a half-eaten apple and fired it at him.
This was too much for the newly-converted disciple of William Penn.
"Just let me catch you, you little rascal," he exclaimed, "and I'll give you the worst licking you ever had."
The boys stared open mouthed at such language from the sedate old gentlemen.
"He's a fighting Quaker," said the first one, "keep out of his way."
"If thee don't, thee'll catch it," said Rudolph, fortunately remembering how he must talk.
He had thought of pursuing the disturbers of his peace, but motives of prudence prevented him.
Four days afterward Rudolph arrived in the town where Tony was employed. He had not been drawn thither by any clew, but by pure accident.
He put up for the night at the hotel where our hero had found work. He enrolled himself on the register as "Obadiah Latham, Philadelphia."
This, he thought, would answer very well for a Quaker name, much better, certainly, than Rudolph Rugg, which on other accounts also was objectionable.
"Can thee give me a room, friend?" he inquired at the desk.
"Certainly, sir," was the polite reply. "Here, Henry, show this old gentleman up to No. 6. No. 6 is one of our best rooms, Mr. Latham."
"I thank thee," said the tramp, who, by this time, was quite accustomed to the peculiar phraseology of the Friends.
"The Quakers are always polite," said the bookkeeper. "They are good pay, too, and never give any trouble. I wish we had more of them stop here."
"If all your customers were of that description, your bar wouldn't pay very well."
"That is true."
But later in the evening the speaker was obliged to change his opinion.
The Quaker came up to the bar, and asked:
"Will thee give me a glass of brandy?"
"Sir?" said the barkeeper, astounded, and hardly believing his ears.
"A glass of brandy!" repeated Rudolph, irritably. "Where is thy ears?"
"I beg pardon, sir, but I was surprised. I did not know that gentlemen of your faith ever drank liquor."
"Thee is right," said the tramp, recollecting himself. "It is only for my health. Thee may make it strong, so that I may feel better soon."
Rudolph drained the glass, and then after a little hesitation, he said:
"I feel better. Will thee mix me another glass, and a little stronger?"
A stronger glass was given him, and he poured it down rapidly.
The barkeeper looked at him shrewdly.
"Quaker as he is, he is evidently used to brandy," he said to himself. "If he wasn't those two glasses would have upset him."
But Rudolph did not appear to be upset, or, indeed, to be in the least affected.
He put his broad-brimmed hat more firmly on his head, and went outside. He determined to take a walk about the village. This was his usual custom on arriving in a new place. On such occasionshe kept his eyes open, and looked about, in the hope that he might somewhere see the object of his search. He little suspected that Tony was at that very moment in the stable-yard in the rear of the hotel.
He walked on for perhaps a quarter of a mile, and then leaned against a fence to rest. As he stood here, two boys passed him slowly, conversing as they walked.
"I was surprised, Sam, at Tony Rugg's whipping you," said the first.
"He couldn't do it again," said Sam, sullenly.
Rudolph's attention was at once drawn.
Tony Rugg! Why, there could be but one Tony Rugg.
He advanced toward the boys.
"Boys," he asked, "did thee mention the name of Tony Rugg?"
"Yes, sir."
"Does thee know such a boy?"
"Yes, sir. He is working at the hotel. He got my place away from me," said Sam. "Do you know him?"
"I once knew such a boy. But no! his name was Charles."
"Perhaps he's a relation."
"Perhaps thee are right."
This the tramp said cunningly, not wishing Tony to hear that he had been inquiring after him.
Rudolph was very much elated at what he had heard. His object then was already attained, and the boy was found.
"Well, good luck has come to me at last," he said to himself. "The young scoundrel is found, and now I must consider how to get him into my hands once more."
The Quaker, to designate him according to his present appearance, at once made his way back to the hotel. He wanted to see Tony and verify the information he had obtained from the boys, though he saw no reason to doubt it.
"There can't be two Tony Ruggs in the world," he said to himself. "I am sure this is the boy."
On reaching the hotel he sauntered out into the stable-yard in the rear of the house. His eyes lighted with pleasure, for he at once caught sight of Tony, standing beside James, the hostler.
"There comes old Broadbrim," said James in a low voice. "The barkeeper told me he took two stiff horns of brandy. He's a queer sort of Quaker in my opinion."
Tony gave a curious glance at the disguised tramp, but entertained no suspicion of his not beingwhat he represented. The white hair and costume made it difficult to doubt.
"I never saw a Quaker before," he said.
"Didn't you?"
Meantime Rudolph came nearer. His disguise had been so successful that he felt perfectly safe from discovery.
"Does thee keep many horses?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; we have twelve."
"That is a large number. Yea, verily, it is," said the tramp.
"Well, it is, but we need them all. There's a good deal of carting to do for the hotel, besides Mr. Porter keeps a livery stable. Was you ever this way before?" asked James, thinking he might as well ask a few questions also.
"Nay, verily."
"Where might you be from?"
"From Philadelphia."
"I've heard there's a good many Quakers out that way."
"Yea, verily, my friend, thee is right."
"Are you going away to-morrow morning?"
"Nay, friend, I think I shall tarry a day or two. Is that lad thy son?"
"Tony, he asks if you are my son," said James, laughing. "No, his name is Tony Rugg, while mine is James Woodley."
"Anthony, was thee born in this town?" asked the tramp, boldly defying detection.
"No, sir," answered Tony. "I only came here a few weeks ago."
"Yea, verily," was the only comment Rudolph made.
"I'd like to choke the boy. I can hardly keep my hands off him," he said to himself. "But I'd better be going. He is looking at me closely. He might suspect something."
"Good-night," he said, and the two responded civilly to the salutation.
"Well, Tony, what do you think of Broadbrim?" asked James.
"I don't know, there's something in his voice that sounds familiar to me."
"Perhaps you may have met him somewhere before," suggested the hostler.
"No, I am sure I have not. I never met any Quaker before."
"Well, there's strange likenesses sometimes. Did I ever tell you my adventure out in Maine?"
"No, what was it?"
"I went down East to see a sister of mine that is married down near Augusta. When, as I was goin' through Portland, a woman came up and made a great ado about my deserting her. She took me for her husband, and came near having me arrested for desertion. You see I and her husband was as like as two peas, that's what some of her neighbors said."
"How did you get off?"
"Luckily I had documents in my pocket showing who I was. Besides, my brother-in-law happened to be in the city, and he identified me."
Rudolph sat in the public room of the hotel for a time, and then he went up to his room, partly to be out of the way of possible recognition, partly to think how he could manage to get Tony into his clutches once more, without betraying himself, or exciting any interference.
He had a back room, the window of which looked out upon the stable-yard. He seated himself at this window, and in this position could easily see and hear all that passed there.
Tony and the hostler were lounging about, the latter smoking a clay pipe, their work being done for the day.
"Tony," said the hostler, "I almost forgot to tell you, you're to go to Thornton to-morrow."
"What for?"
"There's a top-buggy Mr. Porter has sold to a man there. You're to take it over, and lead the horse back."
"How far is it?"
"About five miles."
"All right. I'd just as leave go as stay here. Can I find the road easily?"
"There's no trouble about that. It's straight all the way. Part of it runs through the woods—about a mile, I should say."
"Did Mr. Porter say when he wanted me to start?"
"About nine o'clock; by that time you'll be through your chores."
"Well, I'm willing."
Rudolph heard this conversation with no little pleasure.
"It's the very chance I was waiting for," he said to himself. "I'll lie in wait for him as he comes back. I can easily hide in the woods."
Rudolph took care to breakfast in good season the next morning. He felt that this day was to make his fortune. The deed which would entitle him to a life support was to be perpetrated on that day. He shuddered a little when he reflected that in order to compass this a life must be sacrificed, and that the life of the boy who had been for years under his guardianship, who had slept at his side, and borne with him the perils and privations of his adventurous career. He was a reckless man, but he had never before shed blood, or at any rate taken the life of a human being. He would have been less than human if the near approach of such a crime had not made him nervous and uncomfortable.
But against this feeling he fought strenuously.
"What's the odds?" he said to himself. "The boy's got to die some time or other, and his dying now will make me comfortable for life. No more hungry tramps for me. I'll settle down and be respectable. Eight hundred dollars a year will relieve me from all care, and I shall only need to enjoy myself after this."
Rudolph must have had strange notions ofrespectability to think it could be obtained by crime; but in fact his idea was that a man who could live on his own means was from that very power respectable, and there are plenty of persons of a higher social grade who share in this delusion.
At a few minutes after nine Tony set out on his journey. It never occurred to him that the old Quaker in suit of sober drab, who sat on the piazza and saw him depart, was a man who cherished sinister designs upon him. In fact, he had forgotten all about him, and was intent upon his journey alone. Most boys like to drive, and our friend Tony was no exception to this general rule. He thought it much better than working about the stable-yard.
"Take care of yourself, Tony," said James, the hostler, in a friendly tone.
"Oh, yes, I'll do that," said Tony, little dreaming how necessary the admonition was likely to prove.
"I may as well be starting too," thought Rudolph, and some ten minutes afterward he started at a walk along the road which led to Thornton.
"I'll keep on as far as the woods," he thought, "and then I'll form my plans. The boy must not escape me, for I may never have as good a chance to dispose of him again."
About two miles on began the woods to which reference has already been made. The tramp selected this as probably the best part of the road to accomplish his criminal design.
They extended for nearly a mile on either side of the road, and this was likely to facilitate his purpose.
"I'll explore a little," thought Rudolph. "I shall have plenty of time before the boy comes back."
Some forty rods from the road on the right hand side, the tramp discovered a ruined hut, which had once belonged to a recluse who had for years lived apart from his kind. This had now fallen into decay, for the former occupant had been for some time dead, and no one had been tempted to succeed him.
The general appearance of the building satisfied Rudolph that it was deserted. Impelled partly by curiosity, he explored the neighborhood of the house.
A rod to the east there was a well, open to the view, the curb having decayed, and being in a ruined condition, Rudolph looked down into it, and judged that it might be about twenty feet deep.
A diabolical suggestion came to him. If he could only lure Tony to this well and dispose of him forever.
"I'll do it," he muttered to himself, and started to return to the road, where he hoped to intercept our hero.
Poor Tony! he little dreamed of the danger that menaced him.
Tony drove rapidly to Thornton and sought the purchaser of the buggy. There was a delay of half an hour in finding him, but at last his business was done, and he set out for home.
It was not quite so amusing leading the horse as sitting in a buggy and driving him. But all our pleasures have to be paid for, and Tony was ready to pay the price of this one. After all, he reflected, it was quite as amusing as working about the stable yard, especially after it occurred to him to mount the animal and thus spare himself fatigue.
Everything went smoothly till he entered the woody part of the road.
"Now I shall be home soon," he said to himself. "But, hallo! who's that?" as a figure stepped out from the side of the road. "Oh, it's the Quaker. I wonder what brought him here?"
"Friend, is thee in a hurry?" asked the impostor.
"I suppose I ought to get back as soon as I can," said Tony. "Why, what's up?"
"Thee is the boy from the hotel, is thee not?" asked Rudolph.
"Yes. You're the Quaker gentleman that is stopping there?"
"Yes."
"Well, what do you want of me?"
"There's a man in the woods that has fallen down a well, and I fear he is badly hurt."
"A man fallen down a well!" exclaimed Tony.
"Yes."
"Where is the well?"
"Back in the woods."
"How did you find him?"
"I was walking for amusement when I heard groans, and looking down I could see the poor man."
Tony never thought of doubting this statement, and said, in a tone of genuine sympathy: "Poor fellow!"
"Will thee go with me and help get him out?" asked the Quaker.
"Yes," said Tony, readily, "I'll do it. Never mind if I am a little late. Where shall I put the horse?"
"Lead him into the woods and tie him to a tree."
"All right. I guess that'll be the best way."
The horse was disposed of as had been suggested, and the two set forth on what Tony supposed to be their charitable errand.
"I don't see what made you go into the woods?" said our hero, a little puzzled.
"I was brought up in the woods, my young friend. It reminds me of the time when I was a boy like thee."
"Oh, that's it. Well, it was lucky for the man,that is if we can get him out. Did you speak to him?"
"Yes, verily."
"And did he answer?"
"He groaned. I think he was insensible. I saw that I should need help, and I came to the road again. Luckily thee came by."
"Had you been waiting long?"
"Only five minutes," answered Rudolph.
In reality he had been compelled to wait near an hour, much to his disgust. In fact, he had been led to fear that there might be some other road by which one could return from Thornton, and that Tony had taken it. Should this be the case, his elaborate trap would be useless.
They had come quite near the ruined dwelling, and already the curb of the well was visible.
"Is that the well?" asked Tony.
"Yes," answered the Quaker.
"Let us hurry, then," said Tony.
But the time had come when Tony was to have revealed to him the real character of his companion. A branch, which hung unusually low, knocked off the hat and wig of the pseudo Quaker, and Tony was petrified with dismay when he saw revealed the black, cropped head and sinister face of Rudolph, the tramp.
"Rudolph!" he exclaimed, stopping short in his amazement.
"Yes," said the tramp, avowing himself, now that he saw disguise was useless; "it's Rudolph. At lastI have you, you young scamp!" and he seized the boy's arm as in the grip of a vise.
Tony tried to shake off the grip, but what could a boy do against an athletic man.
"It's no use," said the tramp, between his teeth, "I've got you, and I don't mean to let you go."
"What do you mean to do, Rudolph?" asked Tony, uneasily.
"What do I mean to do? I mean to make you repent of what you've done to me, you young whelp."
"What have I done?"
"What haven't you done? You've betrayed me, and sold me to my enemies. That's what you've done."
"I've only done what I was obliged to do. I don't want to do you any more harm. Let me go, and I won't meddle with you any more, nor say a word about you at the hotel."
"Really," said Rudolph, with a disagreeable sneer, "I feel very much obliged to you. You are very kind, upon my soul. So you won't tell them at the hotel that the Quaker gentleman is only a tramp after all."
"No, I will say nothing about you."
"I don't think you are to be trusted, boy."
"Did you ever know me to tell a lie, Rudolph?" asked Tony, proudly. "I don't pretend to be a model boy, but there's one thing I won't do, and that is lie."
"I think I had better make sure that you don'tsay anything about me," said the tramp, significantly.
"How?" asked Tony.
"I don't mean to let you go back to the hotel at all."
"But I must go back. I must drive the horse back."
"That's of no importance."
"Yes, it is," persisted Tony, anxiously. "They will think I have stolen it."
"Let them think so."
"But I don't want them to think me a thief."
"I can't help it."
"What are you going to do with me? Where are we going?"
"Before I tell you that I will tell you something more. You have often asked me who you were."
"You always told me I was your son."
"It was not true," said Rudolph, calmly. "You are not related to me."
"I felt sure of it."
"Oh, you did!" sneered the tramp. "You are glad that you are not my son!"
"Who am I?"
"I will tell you this much, that you are the heir to a fortune."
"I the heir to a fortune!" exclaimed Tony, in natural excitement.
"Yes; and I could help you to secure it if I pleased."
Tony knew not what to say or to think. Was itpossible that he—Tony, the tramp—was a gentleman's son, and heir to a fortune? It was almost incredible. Moreover, what was the object of Rudolph in imparting this secret, and at this time, when he sought revenge upon him.
"Is this true?" he asked.
"Perfectly true."
"And you know my real name and family?"
"Yes, I do."
"Oh, Rudolph, tell me who I am," Tony said, imploringly. "Help me to the fortune which you say I am entitled to, and I will take care that you are rewarded."
Rudolph surveyed the boy, whom he still held in his firm grasp, and watched his excitement with malicious satisfaction.
"There is one objection to my doing that, boy," he said.
"What is that?"
"I'll tell you," he hissed, as his grasp grew tighter, and his dark face grew darker yet with passion, "I hate you!"
This he uttered with such intensity that Tony, brave as he was, was startled and dismayed.
"Then why did you tell me?" he asked.
"That you might know what you are going to lose—that you might repent betraying me," answered Rudolph, rapidly. "You ask me what I am going to do with you? I am going to throw you down that well, and leave you there—to die!"
Then commenced a struggle between the manand boy. Tony knew what he had to expect, and he fought for dear life. Rudolph found that he had undertaken no light task, but he, too, was desperate. He succeeded at last in dragging Tony to the well-curb, and, raising him in his sinewy arms, he let him fall.
Then, without waiting to look down, he hurried out of the wood with all speed. He reached the hotel, settled his bill, and paid to have himself carried over to the nearest railroad station.
Not until he was fairly seated in the cars, and was rushing through the country at the rate of thirty miles an hour, did he pause to congratulate himself.
"Now for an easy life!" he ejaculated. "My fortune is made! I shall never have to work any more."
On reaching New York, Rudolph made his way at once to the shop from which he had obtained his Quaker dress.
"Has thee come back?" asked the old man, in a jocular tone.
"Yea, verily," answered Rudolph.
"How do you like being a Quaker?"
"I've had enough of it. I want you to take them back. You promised to return me twenty-five dollars."
"Let me look at them," said the old man, cautiously.
"They've seen hard usage," he said. "Look at that rip, and that spot."
"Humbug!" answered Rudolph. "There's nothing but what you can set straight in half an hour, and five dollars is handsome pay for that."
But the old man stood out for seven, and finally the tramp, though grumbling much, was obliged to come to his terms.
"Where have you been?" asked the old man, whose curiosity was aroused as to what prompted Rudolph to obtain the disguise.
"That's my business," said Rudolph, who had his reasons for secrecy, as we know.
"I meant no offense—I only wondered if you left the city."
"Yes, I've been into New Jersey," answered the tramp, who thought it politic to put the customer on the wrong scent. "You see I've got an old uncle—a Quaker—living there. The old man's got plenty of money, and I thought if I could only make him think me a good Quaker, I should stand a good chance of being remembered in his will."
"I see—a capital idea. Did it work?"
"I can't tell yet. He gave me four dollars and his blessing for the present," said Rudolph, carelessly.
"That's a lie every word of it," said the old man to himself, after the tramp went out. "You must try to fix up a more probable story next time, Mr. Rudolph. He's been up to some mischief, probably. However, it's none of my business, I've made seven dollars out of him, and that pays me well—yes, it pays me well."
When Rudolph left the costumer's, it occurred to him that the tramp's dress which he had resumed had better be changed, partly because he thought it probable that a journey lay before him. He sought out a large ready-made clothing establishment on Fulton street, and with the money which had been returned to him obtained a respectable-looking suit, which quite improved his appearance. He regarded his reflection in a long mirror with considerable satisfaction. He felt that he would now be taken for a respectable citizen, and that in discarding his old dress he had removed all vestiges of the tramp. Inthis, however, he was not wholly right. His face and general expression he could not change. A careful observer could read in them something of the life he had lead. Still he was changed for the better, and it pleased him.
"Now," he reflected, "I had better go and see Mrs. Harvey Middleton. I have done the work, and I shall claim the reward."
He hurried to the St. Nicholas, and, experienced now in the ways of obtaining access to a guest, he wrote his name on a card and sent it up.
"The lady will see you," was the answer brought back by the servant.
"Of course she will," thought Rudolph. "She'll want to know whether it's all settled, and she has no further cause for fear."
Mrs. Middleton looked up as he entered.
"Sit down, Mr. Rugg," she said, politely.
Her manner was cool and composed; but when the servant had left the room, she rose from her chair, and in a tone which showed the anxiety which she had till then repressed, she asked, abruptly: "Well, Mr. Rugg, have you any news for me?"
"Yes, ma'am, I have," he answered, deliberately.
"What is it? Don't keep me in suspense," she said, impatiently.
"The job's done," said Rudolph briefly.
"You mean that the boy—"
"Accidentally fell down a well, and was killed," said the visitor, finishing the sentence.
"Horrible!" murmured the lady.
"Wasn't it?" said Rudolph, with a grin. "He must have been very careless."
Mrs. Middleton did not immediately speak. Though she was responsible for this crime, having instigated it, she was really shocked when it was brought home to her.
"You are sure he is dead?" she said, after a pause.
"When a chap pitches head-first down a well thirty feet deep, there isn't much hope for him, is there?"
"No, I suppose not. Where did this accident happen?" asked the lady.
"That ain't important," answered Rudolph. "It's happened—that's all you need to know. Tony won't never come after that estate of his."
"It would have done him little good. He was not fitted by education to assume it."
"No; but he might have been educated. But that's all over now. It's yours. Nobody can take it from you."
"True!" said Mrs. Middleton, and a look of pleasure succeeded the momentary horror. "You will be ready to testify that the boy is dead?"
"There won't be any danger, will there? They won't ask too many questions?"
"As to that, I think we had better decide what we will say. It won't be necessary to say how the boy died."
"Won't it?"
"No. Indeed, it will be better to give a different account."
"Will that do just as well?"
"Yes. You can say, for instance, that he died of small-pox while under your care in St. Louis, or any other place."
"And that I tended him to the last with the affection of a father," added Rudolph, grinning.
"To be sure. You must settle upon all the details of the story, so as not to be caught in any discrepancies."
"What's that?" asked the tramp, rather mystified.
"Your story must hang together. It mustn't contradict itself."
"To be sure. How long are you going to stay in New York?"
"There is no further occasion for my staying here. I shall sail to England in a week."
"Will it be all right about the money?" asked Rudolph, anxiously.
"Certainly."
"How am I to be sure of that?"
"The word of a lady, sir," said Mrs. Middleton, haughtily, "ought to be sufficient for you."
"That's all very well, but suppose you should get tired of paying me the money?"
"Then you could make it very disagreeable for me by telling all you know about the boy. However, there will be no occasion for that. I shall keep my promise. Will you be willing to sail for England next week."
"Do you mean that I am to go with you?"
"I mean that you are to go. Your testimony must be given on the other side, in order to make clear my title to the estate."
"I see, ma'am. If I'd known that I wouldn't have had no fears about the money."
"You need have none, Mr. Rugg," said Mrs. Middleton, coldly. "The fact is, we are necessary to each other. Each can promote the interests of the other."
"That's so, ma'am. Let's shake hands on that," said Rudolph, advancing with outstretched hand.
"No, thank you," said Mrs. Middleton, coldly. "You forget yourself, sir. Do not forget that I am a lady, and that you are—"
"We are equal, ma'am in this matter," said Rudolph, offended. "You needn't shrink from shaking hands with me."
"That is not in the agreement," said Mrs. Middleton, haughtily. "I shall do what I have agreed, but except so far as it is necessary in the way of business, I wish you to keep yourself away from me. We belong to different grades in society."
"Why didn't you say that the other day, ma'am?" said Rudolph, frowning.
"Because I didn't suppose it to be necessary. You did not offer to shake hands with me then. Besides, at that time you had not—"
"Pushed the boy down the well, if that's what you mean," said Rudolph, bluntly.
"Hush! don't refer to that. I advise you this for your own sake."
"And for the sake of somebody else."
"Mr. Rugg, all this discussion is idle. It can do no good. For whatever service you have rendered, you shall be well paid. That you understand. But it is best that we should know as little of each other henceforth as possible. It might excite suspicion, as you can understand."
"Perhaps you are right, ma'am," said Rudolph, slowly.
"Call here day after to-morrow, and I will let you know by what steamer I take passage for England, that you may obtain a ticket. Good afternoon."
Rudolph left the lady's presence not wholly pleased.
"Why wouldn't she shake my hand?" he muttered to himself. "She's as deep in it as I am."
We must now return to our young hero, who was certainly in a critical position. Though strong of his age, the reader will hardly be surprised that he should have been overpowered by a man like Rudolph.
When the false Quaker's hat and wig were taken off, though he was at first surprised, he for the first time understood why the man's face and voice had seemed familiar to him from the time they first met.
He struggled in vain against the fate in store for him. He felt that with him it was to be a matter of life and death, and taken by surprise though he was, he was on the alert to save his life if he could.
The well curb was partially destroyed, as we have said, but the rope still hung from it. At the instant of his fall, Tony managed while in transit to grasp the rope by one hand. He swung violently from one side to the other, and slipped a few feet downward. This Rudolph did not see, for as soon as he had hurled the boy into the well he hurried away.
Tony waited for the rope to become steady before attempting to ascend hand over hand. Unfortunately for his purpose the rope was rotten, and broke just above where he grasped it, precipitating him tothe bottom of the well. But he was already so far from the opening that his fall was not over ten feet. Luckily also the water was not over two feet in depth. Therefore, though he was jarred and startled by the sudden descent, he was not injured.
"Well," thought Tony, "I'm as low as I can get—that's one comfort. Now is there any chance of my getting out?"
He looked up, and it gave him a peculiar sensation to look up at the blue sky from the place where he stood. He feared that Rudolph was still at hand and would resist any efforts he might make to get out of the well.
"If he don't interfere I'm bound to get out," he said to himself, pluckily.
His feet were wet, of course, and this was far from comfortable.
He made a brief examination of the situation, and then decided upon his plan. The well, like most in the country, was provided by a wall of stones, piled one upon another. In parts it looked rather loose, and Tony shuddered as he thought of the possibility of the walls falling, and his being buried in the ruins.
"It would be all up with me, then," he thought, "I must get out of this as soon as I can. If I can only climb up as far as the rope I can escape."
This, in fact, seemed to be his only chance. Using the wall as a ladder, he began cautiously to ascend. More than once he came near falling a second time, but by greatest exertion he finally reached the rope.He did not dare to trust to it entirely, but contrived to ascend as before, clinging to the rope with his hands. He was in constant fear that it would break a second time, but the strain upon it was not so great, and finally, much to his delight, he reached the top.
He breathed a deep sigh of relief when he found himself once more onterra firma. He looked about him cautiously, under the apprehension that Rudolph might be near by, and ready to attack him again. But, as we know, his fears were groundless.
"He made sure that I was disposed of," thought Tony. "What could have induced him to attempt my life? Can it be true, as he said, that I am heir to a fortune? Why couldn't he tell me? I would have paid him well for the information when I got my money. Then he said he knew who I was—I care more for that than the money."
But Tony could not dwell upon these thoughts. The claims of duty were paramount. He must seek the horse, and go back to the hotel. He had been detained already for nearly three-quarters of an hour, and they would be wondering what had become of him.
He made his way as quickly as possible to where he had tied the horse. But he looked for him in vain. He had been untied and led away—perhaps stolen. Tony felt assured that the horse of himself could not leave the spot.
"It must be Rudolph," he said to himself. "Hehas made off with the horse. Now I am in trouble. What will Mr. Porter say to me?"
Tony was in error, as we know, in concluding that Rudolph had carried away the horse. The tramp had no use for him. Besides, he knew that such a proceeding would have exposed him to suspicion, which it was very important for him to avoid.
Who, then, had taken the horse? That is a question which we are able to answer, though Tony could not.
Fifteen minutes before Sam Payson, whose place Tom had taken, with a companion, Ben Hardy, while wandering through the woods had espied a horse.
"Hallo!" said Ben, "here's a horse."
"So it is," said Sam. "It's rather odd that he should be tied here."
"I wonder whose it is?"
Sam had been examining him carefully, and had recognized him.
"It's Mr. Porter's Bill. Don't you see that white spot? That's the way I know him. I have harnessed that horse fifty times."
"But how did he come here? That's the question?"
"I'll tell you," said Sam. "I was at the hotel this morning, and heard that that boy Tony was to go over to Thornton with him."
"That don't explain why he is tied here, does it?"
"Tony must have tied him while he was taking atramp in the woods. Wouldn't Porter be mad if he knew it?"
"I shouldn't wonder if Tony would get bounced."
"Nor I. I tell you what, Ben, I've a great mind to untie the horse, and take him back myself."
"What's the good? It would be an awful job. We came out here to have some fun," grumbled Ben.
"This would be fun to me. I'll get Tony into trouble, and very likely get back the place he cheated me out of. I guess it'll pay."
"All right, Sam. I didn't think of that. I'd like to see how Tony looks when he comes back, and finds the horse gone."
"It'll serve him right," said Sam. "What business had he to interfere with me, I'd like to know."
"If you're going to do it you'd better hurry up. He may go back any time."
"That's so. Here goes, then."
In a trice Bill was untied, and Sam taking the halter led him away. When Tony came up he was not in sight.
Though Tony felt convinced that Rudolph had carried away the horse, he felt it to be his duty to look about for it. There was a bare chance that he might find it somewhere in the wood. In this way he lost considerable time. Had he started for the hotel immediately he would very likely have overtaken the two boys.
Sam kept on his way, and finally arrived at the hotel.
As he led the horse into the stable-yard James, the hostler, exclaimed in surprise:
"How came you by that horse, Sam Payson?"
"Is that the way you thank me for bringing him back?" asked Sam.
"He left the stable under the charge of Tony Rugg this morning."
"Pretty care he takes of him, then."
"What do you mean? Where did you find him?"
"Down in the woods?"
"What woods?"
"Between here and Thornton."
"Wasn't Tony with him?"
"No."
"Are you sure of that? Are you sure you two boys didn't attack Tony and take the horse away?" demanded James, suspiciously.
"No, we didn't. If you don't believe me, you may ask Ben."
"How was it, Ben?" he asked.
"Just as Sam has said. We found the horse alone in the woods. We thought he might be stolen, and we brought him home. It was a good deal of trouble, for it's full two miles."
James looked from one to the other in perplexity.
"I don't understand it at all," he said. "It don't look like Tony to neglect his duty that way."
"You've got too high an opinion of that boy entirely," said Sam, sneeringly.