A carriage drove rapidly up the avenue leading to Middleton Hall.
The hall was not large, but was handsome and well proportioned, and looked singularly attractive, its gray walls forming a harmonious contrast with the bright green ivy that partially covered them, and the broad, smooth lawn that stretched out in front.
Mrs. Middleton regarded her home with unmingled satisfaction. It was to be her home now as long as she lived. Now that the boy was dead no one could wrest it from her. She would live there, but not in solitary grandeur. The news of her success would bring Captain Gregory Lovell to her side, and their marriage would follow as soon as decency would permit. If afterward he should desire to have the name of the residence changed to Lovell Hall, Mrs. Middleton decided that she would not object. Why should she? She had no superstitious love for her present name, while Lovell had for her the charm which love always gives to the name of the loved one.
The housekeeper, stout and matronly, received her mistress at the door.
"Welcome home, Mrs. Middleton," she said; "how long it seems since you went away."
"How do you do, Sarah," said her mistress, graciously. "I can assure you I am glad to be back."
"You will find everything in order, mum, I hope and believe," said Sarah. "We expected to see you sooner."
"I hoped to be back sooner, but the business detained me longer than I desired."
"And did you succeed, mum, if I may be so bold," inquired the housekeeper, curiously.
"As I expected, Sarah. I found that the poor boy was dead."
"Indeed, mum."
"I hoped to bring him back with me, according to my poor husband's desire, but it was ordered otherwise by an inscrutable Providence."
Sarah coughed.
"It is very sad," she said, but she looked curiously at her mistress.
She knew very well that this sad news rejoiced the heart of Mrs. Middleton, and the latter knew that she could not for a moment impose upon her clear-sighted housekeeper. But the farce must be kept up for the sake of appearances.
"Come up to my chamber with me, Sarah. I want to ask you what has been going on since I went away? Have you heard from Lady Lovell's family? Are they all well?"
Lady Lovell was the mother of Captain Gregory Lovell, and the question was earnestly put.
"They are all well except the captain," answered Sarah.
"Is he sick?" demanded her mistress, turning upon her swiftly.
"No, mum; I only meant to say that the captain was gone away."
"Gone away! When? Where?"
"He's ordered to India, I believe, mum. He went away a month ago."
Mrs. Middleton sank into her chair, quite overcome. Her joy was clouded, for the reward of her long and toilsome journey was snatched from her.
"Did he not leave any message?" she asked. "Did he not call before he went away?"
"Yes, mum. He left a note."
"Give it to me quick. Why did you not mention it to me before?"
"It's the first chance I got, mum. The letter is in my own chamber. I took the best care of it. I will get it directly."
"Do go, Sarah."
Mrs. Middleton awaited the return of Sarah with nervous impatience. Perhaps the captain had thrown her over, after all, and, loving him as she did, this would have torn the heart of the intriguing woman, who, cold and selfish as she was so far as others were concerned, really loved the handsome captain.
Sarah speedily reappeared with the letter.
"Here it is, mum," she said. "I have taken the best care of it."
Mrs. Middleton tore it open with nervous haste This is the way it ran:
"My Dear Jane—I am about to set out for India—not willingly, but my regiment is ordered there, and I must obey or quit the service. This, as you well know, I cannot do; for apart from my official pay, I have but a paltry two hundred pounds a year, and that is barely enough to pay my tailor's bill. I am sorry to go away in your absence. If I were only sure you would bring home good news, I could afford to sell my commission and wait. But it is so uncertain that I cannot take the risk."I need not say, my dear Jane, how anxious I am to have all the impediments to our union removed. I am compelled to be mercenary. It is, alas! necessary for me, as a younger son, to marry a woman with money. I shall be happy, indeed, if interest and love go hand in hand, as they will if your absolute claim to your late husband's estate is proved beyond a doubt. I append my India address, and shall anxiously expect a communication from you on your return. If you have been successful, I will arrange to return at once, and our union can be solemnized without delay. Once more, farewell."Your devoted"Gregory Lovell."
"My Dear Jane—I am about to set out for India—not willingly, but my regiment is ordered there, and I must obey or quit the service. This, as you well know, I cannot do; for apart from my official pay, I have but a paltry two hundred pounds a year, and that is barely enough to pay my tailor's bill. I am sorry to go away in your absence. If I were only sure you would bring home good news, I could afford to sell my commission and wait. But it is so uncertain that I cannot take the risk.
"I need not say, my dear Jane, how anxious I am to have all the impediments to our union removed. I am compelled to be mercenary. It is, alas! necessary for me, as a younger son, to marry a woman with money. I shall be happy, indeed, if interest and love go hand in hand, as they will if your absolute claim to your late husband's estate is proved beyond a doubt. I append my India address, and shall anxiously expect a communication from you on your return. If you have been successful, I will arrange to return at once, and our union can be solemnized without delay. Once more, farewell.
"Your devoted"Gregory Lovell."
Mrs. Middleton, after reading this letter, breathed a sigh of relief. He was still hers, and she had only to call him back. There would be a vexatiousdelay, but that must be submitted to. She had feared to lose him, and this apprehension, at least, might be laid aside.
To some the letter would have seemed too mercenary. Even Mrs. Middleton could not help suspecting that, between love and interest, the latter was far the most powerful in the mind of Captain Lovell. But she purposely closed her eyes to this unpleasant suspicion. She was in love with the handsome captain, and it was the great object of her life to become his wife. She decided to answer the letter immediately.
Her desk was at hand, and she opened it at once, and wrote a brief letter to her absent lover:
"Dear Gregory—I have just returned. I am deeply disappointed to find you absent, for, my darling, I have succeeded. I have legal proof—proof that cannot be disputed—that the boy, my husband's cousin, is dead. The poor boy was accidentally killed. I have the sworn affidavit of the man who took him to America, and who was his constant companion there."It is a sad fate for the poor boy. I sincerely deplore his tragical end—he was run over by a train of cars—yet (is it wicked?), my grief is mitigated by the thought that it removes all obstacle to our union. I do not for an instant charge you with interested motives. I am sure of your love, but I also comprehend the necessities of your position. You have been brought up as a gentleman, and you have thetastes of a gentleman. You cannot surrender your social position. It is necessary that, if you marry, you should have an adequate income to live upon. My darling Gregory, I am proud and happy in the thought that I can make you such. You know my estate. The rental is two thousand pounds, and that is enough to maintain our social rank. Come home, then, as soon, as you receive this letter. I am awaiting you impatiently, and can hardly reconcile myself to the delay that must be. Make it as short as possible, and let me hear from you at once."Your own,"Jane Middleton."
"Dear Gregory—I have just returned. I am deeply disappointed to find you absent, for, my darling, I have succeeded. I have legal proof—proof that cannot be disputed—that the boy, my husband's cousin, is dead. The poor boy was accidentally killed. I have the sworn affidavit of the man who took him to America, and who was his constant companion there.
"It is a sad fate for the poor boy. I sincerely deplore his tragical end—he was run over by a train of cars—yet (is it wicked?), my grief is mitigated by the thought that it removes all obstacle to our union. I do not for an instant charge you with interested motives. I am sure of your love, but I also comprehend the necessities of your position. You have been brought up as a gentleman, and you have thetastes of a gentleman. You cannot surrender your social position. It is necessary that, if you marry, you should have an adequate income to live upon. My darling Gregory, I am proud and happy in the thought that I can make you such. You know my estate. The rental is two thousand pounds, and that is enough to maintain our social rank. Come home, then, as soon, as you receive this letter. I am awaiting you impatiently, and can hardly reconcile myself to the delay that must be. Make it as short as possible, and let me hear from you at once.
"Your own,"Jane Middleton."
There was unexpected delay in the reception of this letter. It was three months before it came into the hands of Captain Lovell. When at length it was received, he read it with a mixture of emotions.
"Decidedly," he said, removing the cigar from his mouth, "the old girl is fond of me. I wish I were fond of her, for I suppose I must marry her. It will be rather a bad pill to swallow, but it is well gilded. Two thousand pounds a year are not to be thrown away by a fellow in my straits. The prospect might be brighter, but I suppose I have no right to complain. It will make me comfortable for life. I must take care to have the estate settled upon me, and then the sooner the old girl dies the better."
So Captain Lovell wrote at once, saying that he would return home as soon as he could makearrangements for doing so—that every day would seem a month till he could once more embrace his dear Jane. The letter was signed, "Your devoted Gregory."
Mrs. Middleton read it with unfeigned delight. Her plans had succeeded, and the reward would soon be hers.
But there was fresh delay. Arrangements to return could not be made so easily as Captain Lovell anticipated. It was seven months from the day Mrs. Middleton reached England when Captain Lovell was driven to his hotel in London. Meanwhile events had occurred which were to have an effect upon Mrs. Middleton's plans.
"Tony," said George Spencer one evening, "you have been making wonderful progress in your studies. In six months you have accomplished as much as I did at boarding school in two years when at your age."
"Do you really mean it, Mr. Spencer?" said Tony, gratified.
"I am quite in earnest."
"I am very glad of it," said Tony. "When I began I was almost discouraged. I was so much behind boys of my age."
"And now your attainments raise you above the average. Your tutor told me so yesterday when I made inquiries."
"I am rejoiced to hear it, Mr. Spencer, I was very much ashamed of myself at first, and I did not like to speak before your friends for fear they would find out what sort of a life I led. That is what made me work so hard."
"Well, Tony, you may congratulate yourself on having succeeded. I think you can venture now to take a little vacation."
"A vacation! I don't need one."
"Suppose it were spent in Europe?"
"What!" exclaimed Tony, eagerly, "you don't think of our going abroad?"
"Yes. The house with which I am connected wants me to go abroad on business. If I go you may go with me if you would like it."
"Like it!" exclaimed Tony, impetuously. "There is nothing I would like better."
"So I supposed," said George Spencer, smiling. "I may as well tell you that our passage is taken for next Saturday, by the Russia."
"And this is Monday evening. How soon it seems!"
"There won't be much preparation to make—merely packing your trunk."
"Mr. Spencer," said Tony, "I want to ask a favor."
"What is it?"
"I have told you about being employed at a country hotel, just before I came to the city and found you."
"Yes."
"I would like to go back there for a day, just to see how all my old friends are."
"You don't mean to apply again for your old place?"
"Not unless you turn me off, and I have to find work somewhere."
"Turn you off, Tony! Why, I shouldn't know how to get along without you. You are like a younger brother to me," said the young man, earnestly.
"Thank you, Mr. Spencer. You seem like an older brother to me. Sometimes I can hardly believe that I was once a tramp."
"It was your misfortune, Tony, not your fault. So you want to go back and view your former home?"
"Yes, Mr. Spencer."
"Then you had better start to-morrow morning, so as to be back in good time to prepare for the journey."
"Do you know, Mr. Spencer," said Tony, "I've got an idea. I'll go back wearing the same clothes I had on when I left there."
"Have you got them still?"
"Yes, I laid them away, just to remind me of my old life. I'll take my other clothes in a bundle, and after a while I can put them on."
"What is your idea in doing this, Tony?" asked the young man.
"I want to give them a surprise."
"Very well, do as you please. Only don't stay away too long."
* * * * * *
Tony proceeded to carry out the plan he had proposed.
He traveled by rail to a village near by, and then with his bundle suspended to a stick, took up his march to the tavern.
He entered the familiar stable yard. All looked as it did the day he left. There was only one person in the yard, and that one Tony recognized atonce as his old enemy, Sam Payson, who appeared to be filling his old position, as stable boy.
"Hallo, Sam!" said Tony, whose entrance had not been observed.
Sam looked up and whistled.
"What, have you come back?" he said, not appearing overjoyed at the sight of Tony.
"Yes, Sam," said Tony.
"Where have you been all the time?"
"In New York part of the time."
"What have you been doing for a living?"
"Well, I lived with a gentleman there."
"What did you do—black his boots?"
"Not exactly."
"Did he turn you off?"
"No; but he's going to Europe next Saturday."
"So you're out of a place?"
"I have no employment."
"What made you come back here?" demanded Sam, suspiciously.
"I thought I'd like to see you all again."
"That don't go down," said Sam roughly. "I know well enough what you're after."
"What am I after?"
"You're after my place. You're hoping Mr. Porter will take you on again. But it's no use. There ain't any chance for you."
"How long have you been back again, Sam?"
"Three months, and I am going to stay, too. You got me turned off once, but you can't do it again."
"I don't want to."
"Oh, no, I presume not," sneered Sam. "Of course, you don't. You've got on the same clothes you wore away, haven't you?"
"Yes, it's the same suit, but I've got some more things in my bundle."
"I guess you haven't made your fortune, by the looks."
"The fact is, Sam, I haven't earned much since I went away."
"I knew you wouldn't. You ain't so smart as people think."
"I didn't know anybody thought me smart."
"James, the hostler, is always talking you up to me, but I guess I can rub along as well as you."
"You talk as if I was your enemy, Sam, instead of your friend."
"I don't want such a friend. You're after my place, in spite of all you say."
Just then James, the hostler, came out of the stable.
"What, is it you, Tony?" he asked, cordially.
"Yes, James; I hope you're well."
"Tip-top; and how are you?" asked the hostler, examining Tony, critically.
"I'm well."
"Have you been doing well?"
"I haven't wanted for anything. I've been with a gentleman in New York."
Here Mr. Porter appeared on the scene.
He too, recognized Tony.
"What! back again, Tony?" he said.
"I thought I'd just look in, sir."
"Do you want a place!"
"What sort of a place?"
"Your old place."
Sam heard this, and looked the picture of dismay. He took it for granted that Tony would accept at once, and privately determined that if he did he would give him a flogging, if it were a possible thing.
He was both relieved and surprised when Tony answered:
"I am much obliged to you, Mr. Porter, but I wouldn't like to cut out Sam. Besides, I have a place engaged in New York."
"I would rather have you than Sam, any day."
"Thank you, sir, but I've made an arrangement, and can't break it."
"How long are you going to stay here?"
"If you've a spare room, I'll stay over till to-morrow."
"All right. Go into the office, and they'll give you one."
"I say, Tony," said Sam, after the landlord had gone, "you're a better fellow than I thought you were. I thought you'd take my place when it was offered you."
"You see you were mistaken, Sam. I'll see you again."
Tony went into the hotel—went up to a small chamber that had been assigned him, changed his clothes for a handsome suit in his bundle, took ahandsome gold watch and chain from his pocket and displayed them on his vest, and then came down again.
As he entered the yard again, Sam stared in amazement.
"It can't be you, Tony!" he said. "Where'd you get them clothes, and that watch?"
"I came by them honestly, Sam."
"But I can't understand it," said Sam, scratching his head. "Ain't you poor, and out of work?"
"I'm out of work, but not poor. I've been adopted by a rich gentleman, and am going to sail for Europe on Saturday."
"Cracky! who ever heard the like? Wouldn't he adopt me, too?"
"I believe there is no vacancy," said Tony, smiling.
"Was that the reason you wouldn't take my place?"
"One reason."
"James!" called Sam, "just look at Tony now."
James stared, and when an explanation was made, heartily congratulated our hero.
"Sam," said Tony, producing a couple of showy neck-ties, "to prove to you that I am not your enemy, I have brought you these."
"They're stunning!" exclaimed the enraptured Sam. "I always thought you was a good fellow, Tony. Are they really for me?"
"To be sure they are, but I'm afraid, Sam, you didn't always think quite so well of me."
"Well, I do now. You're a trump."
"And, James, I've brought you a present too." Here Tony produced a handsome silver watch with a silver chain appended. "It's to remember me by."
"I'd remember you without it, Tony, but I'm very much obliged too. It's a real beauty."
When the landlord was told of Tony's good fortune, he was as much surprised as the rest. Our hero was at once changed to the handsomest room in the hotel, and was made quite a lion during the remainder of his stay.
There is something in success after all.
"Good-by, Tony," said Sam heartily, when our hero left the next day. "You're a gentleman, and I always said so."
"Thank you, Sam. Good luck to you!" responded Tony, smiling.
"I'm a much finer fellow than when I was a tramp," he said to himself. "Sam says so, and he ought to know. I suppose it's the way of the world. And now for Europe!"
Two weeks later Tony and his friend were guests at a popular London hotel, not far from Charing Cross.
"We will postpone business till we have seen a little of London," said George Spencer. "Luckily my business is not of a pressing character, and it can wait."
"You have been in London before, Mr. Spencer," said Tony. "I am afraid you will find it a bore going round with me."
"Not at all. I spent a week here when a boy of twelve, and saw nothing thoroughly, so I am at your disposal. Where shall we go first?"
"I should like to see Buckingham Palace, where the queen lives."
"She doesn't live there much. However, we'll go to see it, but we'll take the Parliament House and Westminster Abbey on the way."
In accordance with this programme they walked—for the distance was but short—to Westminster Abbey. It would be out of place for me to describe here that wonderful church where so much of the rank and talent of past ages lies buried. It is enough to say that Tony enjoyed it highly. He afterward visited the Parliament House. Thisoccupied another hour. When they came out Mr. Spencer said:
"Tony, I have got to go to my banker's. Do you care to come?"
"No, thank you, Mr. Spencer, I would rather walk round by myself."
"Very well, Tony, just as you please. Only don't get lost."
"I'll take care of that; I'm used to cities."
"You are not used to London. It is one of the blindest cities in the world; it is a complete labyrinth."
"I don't mean to get lost. You'll find me at the hotel at four o'clock."
"Very well. That will be early enough."
So George Spencer went his way, and Tony set out upon his rambles.
He found plenty to amuse him in the various buildings and sights of the great metropolis. But after awhile he began to wonder where he was. He had strayed into a narrow street, scarcely more than a lane, with a row of tumble-down dwellings on either side.
"There's nothing worth seeing here," said our hero. "I'll inquire my way to Charing Cross."
He went into a small beer house, and preferred his request.
"Charing Cross!" repeated the publican. "It's a good ways from 'ere."
"How far?" asked Tony.
"A mile easy, and there's no end of turns."
"Just start me, then," said Tony, "and I'll reach there. Which way is it?"
"Turn to the left when you go out of this shop."
"All right, and thank you."
Tony noticed that there were three or four men seated at tables in the back part of the shop, but he had not the curiosity to look at them. If he had, he would have been startled, for among these men was Rudolph Rugg, more disreputable than ever in appearance, for he had been drinking deeply for the last six months. He stared at Tony as one dazed, for he supposed him dead long ago at the bottom of a well three thousand miles away.
"What's the matter, Rugg?" asked his companion. "You look as if you'd seen a ghost."
"So I have," muttered Rugg, starting for the door.
"Where are you going?"
"I've got a headache," said Rudolph.
"You've left your drink."
"I don't want it."
"What's come over him?" said his late companion, in surprise.
"No matter. He'll be back soon."
Rudolph swiftly followed Tony. He wanted to find out whether it was really the boy whom he had sought to murder or not. Then what did his appearance in London mean? Was he possibly in search of him—Rugg? It was wonderful, certainly. How had he obtained the means of coming to England?—as a gentleman, too, for Rudolph had not failed tonotice his rich clothes. Had he obtained rich and powerful friends, and was he in search of the inheritance that had been wrongfully kept from him?
Rudolph asked himself all these questions, but he could not answer one.
"If I could only ask him," he thought, "but that wouldn't be safe."
By this time he had come in sight of Tony, who was walking along slowly, not feeling in any particular hurry.
An idea struck Rudolph.
A boy who had been employed in begging was standing on the sidewalk.
"Gi'me a penny, sir," he said.
Rudolph paused.
"Walk along with me, and I'll show you how you can earn half a crown," he said.
"Will you?" said the boy, his face brightening.
"Yes, I will, and you won't find it hard work, either."
"Go ahead, gov'nor."
"Do you see that boy ahead?"
"That young gentleman?"
"Yes," said Rudolph.
"I see him."
"I want you to manage to get him up to my room; it's No. 7 —— street, top floor, just at the head of the stairs."
"Shall I tell him you want to see him?"
"No, he wouldn't come. Tell him your poorgrandfather is sick in bed—anything you like, only get him to come."
"S'posin' he won't come?"
"Then follow him, and find out where he is staying. Do you understand?"
"Yes, gov'nor. I'll bring him."
"Go ahead, and I'll hurry round to the room. I'll be in bed."
"All right."
The boy was a sharp specimen of the juvenile London beggar. He was up to the usual tricks of his class, and quite competent to the task which Rudolph had engaged him to perform.
He came up to Tony, and then began to whimper.
"What's the matter, Johnny?" said Tony, addressing him by the usual New York name for an unknown boy.
"Oh, my poor grandfather is so sick," said the boy.
"What's the matter with him?"
"I don't know. I guess he's goin' to die."
"Why don't you send for a doctor?"
"He wouldn't come—we're so poor."
"Do you live near here?"
"Oh, yes, sir; only a little way."
"I want to go to Charing Cross—is it much out of the way?"
"No, sir; it's right on the way there."
"Then, if you'll show me the way to Charing Cross afterward, I will go round with you and lookat your grandfather. Perhaps I can do something for him."
"Oh, sir, how kind you are! I know'd you was a gentleman when I fust saw you."
"When was your grandfather taken sick?"
"Two days ago," said the boy.
"Is he in bed?"
"Yes, sir. Leastways, he was when I came out. We didn't have no breakfast."
"I am sorry for that. Don't you want to buy something to take to him?"
"If you'll give me a shillin', sir, I'll ask him what he can eat. Sick folks can't eat the same things as the rest of us."
"To be sure. You are right. Well, here's a shilling."
"The boy little thinks that I have known many a time what it is to be without breakfast or money to buy any," thought Tony. "I'll do something for the poor man, if only to show how grateful I am for my own good fortune."
He followed the boy for about ten minutes, until they reached rather a shabby building. This was No. 7.
"Come right up after me," said the boy.
The two went up till they reached the room indicated by Rudolph. The boy pushed the door open.
A sound of groaning proceeded from the bed.
"Grandfather, I've brought a kind young gentleman," said the boy.
"Come here," muttered the person in bed.
Tony came up to the bed.
In an instant Rudolph had thrown off the clothes and had him seized by the arm.
"There's your money, boy. Go!" he said to the other, flinging a half-crown.
"I've got you at last!" he shouted. "Now, you young villain, I'll get even with you!"
His face was almost fiendish with rage, as he uttered these words.
To say that Tony was not startled would not be true. Without a moment's warning he found himself in the power of his old enemy—completely in his power, knowing, too, the desperate character of the man, which would let him stick at nothing.
Rudolph enjoyed his evident surprise.
"I've been waiting for this," he said. "It's a great joy to me to have you here in my power."
By this time Tony had collected himself, and had become composed.
"Rudolph," he said, "what makes you hate me so?"
"Haven't you tried to injure me—didn't you get me arrested? Do you forget that night in the old miser's hut?"
"No, I don't forget it, but you forced me to act as I did. But even if I did injure you, you took your revenge."
"When, and how?"
"When you threw me into the well. How could you do such a dark deed? What had I done that you should seek to murder me?"
"How did you get out?" asked Rudolph, giving way to curiosity.
"I climbed out."
"How?"
"By means of the wall that lined the well. Finally I got hold of the rope."
"So that was the way, was it? I ought to have made surer of your fate."
"How could you do that?"
"By throwing some rocks down on you," answered the tramp, with a malignant frown.
"I am glad I have not such a wicked disposition as you, Rudolph," said Tony, looking at him fixedly.
"Take care how you insult me, boy!" said Rudolph, angrily.
"I have no wish to insult you. Now tell me why you have lured me here? I suppose you hired the boy."
"I did, and he did the work well," said the tramp, triumphantly.
"Well, now I am here, what do you want of me?"
"First, tell me how you happen to be in London? Did you know I was here?"
"I knew you crossed the Atlantic."
"How?"
"I saw you buy your ticket."
"What?" exclaimed the tramp, in surprise. "Did you reach New York so soon?"
"Yes. I lost my situation at the inn, for they did not believe my story about having been thrown down the well by a Quaker."
Rudolph laughed.
"It was a good disguise," he said. "So they discharged you? That was good."
"I did not think so at the time, but it proved to be the luckiest thing that could happen to me."
"How was that?"
"It led me to go to New York. There I found a rich and generous friend. I have been with him ever since."
"As a servant?"
"No; as his adopted brother. He supplied me with teachers, and in little more than six months I have acquired as much as most boys do in two or three years."
"So you have gone in for education, have you?" said Rudolph, sneering.
"Yes. Could I go in for anything better?"
"And you consider yourself a young gentleman, now, do you?"
"That is the rank I hold in society," said Tony, calmly.
"And you forget that you were once Tony, the Tramp?"
"No, Rudolph, I have not forgotten that. It was not my fault, and I am not ashamed of it. But I should be ashamed if I had not left that kind of life as soon as I was able."
"By Heaven, you shall go back to it!" said Rudolph, malignantly.
"I never will," answered Tony, gently, but firmly.
"I will force you to it."
"Neither you nor any one else can force me to it. I will black boots in the street first."
"That will suit me just as well," said the tramp, laughing maliciously. "You have grown too proud. I want to lower your pride, young popinjay."
"I am not afraid of anything you can do to me, Rudolph," said Tony, bravely.
"Suppose I choose to kill you?"
"You won't dare do it. We are not in the woods now."
Tony had hit the truth. Rudolph did not dare to kill him, though he would have been glad to. But he knew that he would himself be arrested, and he had more to live for now than formerly. He had an income, and comfortably provided for, and he did not choose to give up this comfortable and independent life.
"No," he said, "I won't kill you; but I will be revenged for all that. First, I will keep you from that generous friend of yours."
"What will he think has become of me?" thought Tony, uneasily.
A thought came to him. He would appeal to the man's love of money.
"Rudolph," he said, "I am afraid my friend will be uneasy about me. If you will let me go I will give you ten pounds that I have in my pocket."
"I don't believe you have so much money," said Rudolph, cunningly.
Tony fell into the snare unsuspectingly. Hedrew out his pocket-book and displayed two five-pound notes on the Bank of England.
Rudolph quickly snatched them from him.
"They are mine already," he said, with a mocking laugh.
"So I see," said Tony, coolly; "but I was about to offer you fifty pounds besides."
"Have you the money in your pocketbook?"
"No, I haven't, but I could get it from Mr. Spencer."
"It don't go down, Tony," said Rudolph, shaking his head. "I am not so much in need of money as to pay so dearly for it. Listen to me. If you have been lucky, so have I. I have an income, safe and sure, of one hundred and fifty pounds."
"You have!" exclaimed Tony, surprised.
"Yes."
"Do you hold any position?"
"No; I merely promise to keep my mouth shut."
"Is it about me?"
"Yes. The long and short of it is that there is an English estate, bringing in two thousand pounds rental, that of right belongs to you."
"To me—an estate of two thousand pounds a year?" exclaimed Tony, in astonishment.
"Yes; the party who owns it pays me an income as hush money. I have only to say the word, and the estate will be yours, Tony."
"Say the word, Rudolph, and you shall have the same income," entreated Tony. "It isn't the money I so much care for, but I want to know who I am.I want to be restored to my rightful place in society. Is my mother living?"
"No."
"Nor my father?"
"No."
Tony looked sober.
"Then I should not care so much for the money. Still it ought to be mine."
"Of course it ought," said Rudolph, gloating over the boy's emotion.
"You shall lose nothing by telling me—by becoming my friend. I will never refer to the past—never speak of what happened in America."
"No doubt," sneered Rudolph, "but it can't be."
"Why can't it be?"
"Because I hate you!" hissed the tramp, with a baleful look. "Not another word. It's no use, I shall lock you up here for the present, while I am out. When I come back I will let you know what I am going to do to you."
He left the room, locking the door behind him.
Tony sat down to reflect upon the strange position in which he was placed.
When Rudolph left Tony imprisoned, he began to think over the situation with regard to his own interest.
He was already dissatisfied with the income he received from Mrs. Middleton; though at the time it seemed to him large, he found that he could easily spend more. He did not have expensive lodgings—in fact, they were plain, and quite within his means, but he drank and gambled, and both these amusements were expensive. He had already made up his mind to ask for a larger income, and Tony's offer stimulated him to ask at once.
"If Mrs. Middleton won't, the boy will," he said to himself.
Mrs. Middleton was in London. In fact, at that moment she was conversing with Captain Lovell, to whom she had been formally betrothed. He had satisfied himself that the prospects were all right, and then had renewed his offer. The marriage was to take place in a month, and Mrs. Middleton was in town to make suitable preparations for it. She was perfectly happy, for she was about to marry a man she loved.
As for Captain Lovell, he was well enoughcontented. He did not care much for the lady as regards love, but he was decidedly in love with her property.
"It will make me comfortable for life," he said, with a shrug of the shoulders, "and after marriage I can pay as little attention to Mrs. Lovell as I choose. She must be content with marrying my name."
The widow had taken handsome apartments at a West End boarding house. There she received callers.
Captain Lovell was lounging in an easy chair, looking rather bored. Hisfianceewas inspecting an array of dry goods which had been sent in from a fancy London shop.
"Don't you think this silk elegant, Gregory!" she asked, displaying a pattern.
"Oh, ah, yes, I suppose so," he answered with a yawn.
"I would like to have your taste, Gregory."
"I have no taste, my dear Mrs. Middleton, about such matters."
"Don't you think it will become me?"
"Why, to be sure; everything becomes you, you know."
She laughed.
"Would a yellow turban become me?" she asked.
"Well, perhaps not," he said, "but of course you know best."
"How little you men know about a lady's dress!"
"I should think so. The fact is, my dear Mrs. Middleton, that part of my education was neglected."
"When I am your wife, Gregory, I shall always appeal to your taste."
"Will you?" he said, rather frightened. "'Pon my honor, I hope you won't now."
"And I shall expect you to consult me about your wardrobe."
"What, about my trousers and coats? Really, that's very amusing; 'pon my honor it is."
"Don't you think I feel an interest in how my dear Gregory is dressed?"
"I don't know, I'm sure."
"But I do, and shall I tell you why?"
"If you want to."
"Because I love you," she said softly, and she rose from her chair, and crossing, laid her hand affectionately on his shoulder.
He shrank, just the least in the world, and felt annoyed, but didn't like to say so. She might be angry, and though he did not love her, he did want to marry her, and so escape from his money troubles.
"Of course, I'm ever so much obliged to you," he said, "and all that sort of thing."
"And you love me, Gregory, don't you?" she asked, tenderly.
"Did you ever! I wish she'd stop," he said to himself. "She makes me awful uncomfortable."
"Don't you love me, Gregory?"
"If I didn't love you, do you think I would haveasked you to become Mrs. Lovell?" he said, evading the question.
"To be sure, Gregory," she replied, trying to look satisfied.
"And now I must go; I must, 'pon my honor," he said, rising.
"You have been here so short a time," she pleaded.
"But I promised to be at the club. I'm to meet a fellow officer, and it's the hour now."
"Then I must let you go. But you'll come again soon?"
"Yes, 'pon honor," and the captain kissed his hand to hisfiancee.
"I wonder if he really loves me!" she said to herself, wistfully.
At this moment the servant entered.
"Please, ma'am, there's a rough-looking man below, who says he wants to see you. His name is Rugg."
"Admit him," said Mrs. Middleton, looking annoyed.
"Why are you here Mr. Rugg?" demanded Mrs. Middleton, coolly.
"On business," said the tramp, throwing himself, uninvited upon the same chair from which Captain Lovell had just risen.
Mrs. Middleton flushed with anger, but she did not dare to treat his insolence as it deserved.
"What business can you have with me?" she asked, coldly.
"It's about the allowance."
"It was paid punctually, was it not?"
"Yes."
"Then you can have no business with me. Have I not told you that you are not to call upon me at any time? My agent attends to that."
"I want the allowance raised," said Rudolph, abruptly.
"Raised?"
"Yes, you must double it."
Mrs. Middleton was now really angry.
"I never heard such insolence," she said. "You have taken your trouble for nothing. I shall not give you a pound more."
"You'd better, Mrs. Middleton," said Rudolph, "or I may tell all I know."
"You would only ruin yourself, and lose your entire income."
"I should ruin you, too."
"Not at all. No one would believe you against me. Besides, are you ready to be tried for murder?"
"Who has committed murder?"
"You have."
"Prove it."
"Didn't you kill the boy?"
"No."
"You swore to me he was dead."
"Suppose he didn't die."
"You are wasting your time, Mr. Rugg," said Mrs. Middleton, coldly. "Of course I understand your motives. You have been extravagant, and wasted your money, hoping to get more out of me. But it is useless."
"You'll be sorry for this, ma'am," said Rugg, angrily.
"I don't think I shall. Before doing anything thatyouwill be sorry for, consider that to a man in your position the income I give you is very liberal."
"Liberal! It isn't one-tenth of what you get."
"Very true, but the case is different."
"You may believe me or not, but the boy is alive, and I know where he is."
Mrs. Middleton did not believe one word of what he said. She was convinced that Tony had been killed by the man before her, and was indignant atthe trick which she thought he was trying to play upon her. She felt that if she yielded to his importunity, it would only be the beginning of a series of demands. She had courage and firmness, and she decided to discourage him once for all in his exactions.
"I don't believe you," she said, "and I am not afraid."
"Then you won't increase my income," he said.
"No, I will not. Neither now nor at any other time will I do it. What I have agreed to do I will do, but I will not give you a penny more. Do you understand me, Mr. Rugg?"
"I believe I do," said Rudolph, rising, "and I tell you you'll be sorry for what you are saying."
"I will take the risk," she said, contemptuously.
Rudolph's face was distorted with passion as he left the room.
"I hate her more than the boy," he muttered. "He shall have the estate."
When Tony found himself left a prisoner in his enemy's room, he did not immediately make an effort to escape, in fact, he did not feel particularly alarmed.
"I am in a large city, and there are other lodgers in this building. There can be no danger. I will wait awhile and think over what Rudolph has told me. Can it be true that I am heir to a large estate in England, and that he can restore me to it if he will? He can have no motive for deceiving me. It must be true."
Tony felt that he would give a great deal to know more. Where was this estate, and who now held it? It occurred to him that some where about the room he might find some clew to the mystery. He immediately began to explore it.
Rudolph was not a literary man. He had neither books nor papers whose tell-tale testimony might convict him. In fact, the best of his personal possessions was very small. A few clothes were lying about the room. Tony decided to examine the pockets of these, in the hope of discovering something in his interest. Finally, he found in the pocket of a shooting coat a small memorandumbook, in which a few entries, chiefly of bets, had been made. In these Tony felt no interest, and he was about to throw down the book, when his eye caught this entry:
"Dead broke. Must write to Mrs. Middleton for more money."
Tony's heart beat rapidly.
This must be the person from whom Rudolph received his income, and, by consequence the person who was in fraudulent possession of the estate that was rightfully his.
"Mrs. Middleton!"
"I wish I knew where she lives," thought our hero. "No doubt there are hundreds of the name in England."
This might be, but probably there was but one Mrs. Middleton in the possession of an estate worth two thousand pounds rental.
"I am on the track," thought Tony. "Now let me get away, and consult George Spencer."
It was easier said than done. The door was locked, and it was too strong to break down.
"There must be somebody in the room below," thought Tony. "I'll pound till they hear me."
He jumped up and down with such force that it did attract attention in the room below. Presently he heard a querulous voice at the key-hole:
"What's the matter? Are you mad?"
"No, but I'm locked in," said Tony. "Can't you let me out?"
"I have no key to the door, but the landlady has."
"Won't you please to ask her to let me out? I'll be ever so much obliged."
"Stop pounding then."
"I will."
Scarcely two minutes had elapsed when a key was heard in the lock and the door was opened.
"How came you here, sir?" asked the landlady, a short, stout woman—suspiciously.
"The gentleman locked me in—in a joke," said Tony.
"Maybe you're a burglar," said the landlady, eyeing him doubtfully.
Tony laughed.
"Do I look like it?" he asked.
"Well, no," the landlady admitted, "but appearances are deceitful."
"Not with me, I assure you. I am really sorry to put you to so much trouble to let me out. Won't you accept of this?" and Tony produced a half sovereign.
"Really, sir, I see that you are quite the gentleman," said the landlady, pocketing the piece with avidity. "Can't I do anything for you?"
"Only, if you'll be kind enough to give this to the gentleman when he returns."
Tony hastily wrote a line on a card, and gave it to the now complacent dame.
Fifteen minutes after Tony's departure Rudolph returned.
He sprang up stairs only to find the room empty and the bird flown.
"What's come of the boy!" he exclaimed in dismay; "how did he get out?"
He summoned the landlady quickly.
"Do you know anything of the boy that was in my room, Mrs. Jones?"
"Yes, Mr. Rugg, I let him out. He said you locked him in in fun."
"Humph! what else did he say?"
"He left this card for you."
Rugg seized it hastily, and read with startled eyes:
"I am at Morley's. Come and see me soon, or I will go to Mrs. Middleton."Tony."
"I am at Morley's. Come and see me soon, or I will go to Mrs. Middleton.
"Tony."
"Confusion? where did the boy find out?" thought the tramp. "I must do something, or I am ruined."
It was a mystery to him how Tony had learned so much, and he naturally concluded that he knew a good deal more. He felt that no time was to be lost, and started at once for Morley's. Inquiring for Tony, he was at once admitted to the presence of Tony and George Spencer.
"So you got my card!" said Tony.
"Yes. What do you know about Mrs. Middleton?" demanded Rudolph.
"That she possesses the estate that ought to be mine. That's about it, isn't it?"
"Yes," said Rudolph, "but you can't get it without me."
"Why not?"
"I was the man that was hired to abduct you when you was a boy."
"Can you prove that?" asked Spencer.
"I can."
"Will your story be believed?"
"Yes. The tenantry will remember me. I was one of them at the time."
"Are you ready to help my young friend here to recover his rights?" asked Spencer.
"This morning I said no. Now I say yes, if he'll do the fair thing by me."
A conference was entered into and a bargain was finally made. Rudolph was to receive two hundred pounds a year as a reward for his services, if successful.
When this arrangement had been completed, an appointment was made for the next morning; at which hour a lawyer of repute was also present. After listening attentively to Rudolph's statement, he said, decisively:
"Your young friend has a strong case, but I advise you to see Mrs. Middleton privately. It may not be necessary to bring the matter into court; and this would be preferable, as it would avoid scandal."
"I put myself in your hands," said Tony, promptly.
"Mrs. Harvey Middleton is in London," said the lawyer. "I will call this afternoon."
Mrs. Harvey Middleton sat in her boudoir, trying to read a novel. But it failed to interest her. She felt uneasy, she scarcely knew why. The evening previous she had been at the Haymarket Theatre, and had been struck by a boy's face. Ten feet from her sat Tony, with his friend, George Spencer. He looked wonderfully like his father, as she remembered him, and she was startled. She did not know Tony, but Rugg's angry warning struck her.
"Was he right? Can this be the boy I have so much reason to dread?" she asked herself.
She was thinking of this when the servant entered the room with a card.
"C. Barry," she repeated, "wishes to see Mrs. Middleton on business of the greatest importance."
"Ask him to come up," she said, uneasily.
It was the lawyer, as the reader may have suspected.
"Mrs. Middleton," he said, with a bow, "I must apologize for my intrusion."
"You say your business is important," said the lady.
"It is—of the first importance."
"Explain yourself, I beg."
"I appear before you, madame, in behalf of your late husband's cousin, Anthony Middleton, who is the heir of the estate which you hold in trust."
It was out now, and Mrs. Middleton was at bay.
"There is no such person," she said. "The boy you refer to is dead."
"What proof have you of his decease?"
"I have the sworn statement of the man who saw him die."
"And this man's name?"
"Is Rudolph Rugg."
"I thought so. Mr. Rugg swore falsely. He is ready to contradict his former statement."
"He has been tampered with!" exclaimed Mrs. Middleton, pale with passion.
"That may be," said the lawyer; but he added, significantly, "Not by us."
"The boy is an impostor," said Mrs. Middleton, hotly. "I will not surrender the estate."
"I feel for your disappointment, madame; but I think you are hasty."
"Who will believe the statement of a common tramp?"
"Yourelied upon it before, madame. But we have other evidence," continued the lawyer.
"What other evidence?"
"The striking resemblance of my young friend to the family."
"Was—was he at the Haymarket Theatre last evening?"
"He was. Did you see him?"
"I saw the boy I suppose you mean. He had a slight look like Mr. Middleton."
"He is his image."
"Suppose—suppose this story to be true, what do you offer me?" asked Mrs. Middleton, sullenly.
"An income of three hundred pounds from the estate," said the lawyer. "If the matter comes to court, this Rugg, I am bound to tell you, has an ugly story to tell, in which you are implicated."
Mrs. Middleton knew well enough what it meant. If the conspiracy should be disclosed, she would be ostracised socially. She rapidly made up her mind.
"Mr. Barry," she said, "I will accept your terms, on a single condition."
"Name it, madame."
"That you will give me six weeks' undisturbed possession of the estate, keeping this matter secret meanwhile."
"If I knew your motive, I might consent."
"I will tell you in confidence. Within that time I am to be married. The abrupt disclosure of this matter might break off the marriage."
"May I ask the name of the bridegroom?"
"Captain Gregory Lovell."
The lawyer smiled. He knew of Captain Lovell, and owed him a grudge. He suspected that the captain was mercenary in his wooing, and he thought that it would be a fitting revenge to let matters go on.
"I consent, upon my own responsibility," he said.
"Thank you," said Mrs. Middleton, with real gratitude.
She would not lose the man she loved, after all.
* * * * * * *
A month later the marriage of Captain Gregory Lovell, of Her Majesty's service, and Mrs. Harvey Middleton, of Middleton Hall, was celebrated. There was a long paragraph in the Morning "Post," and Mrs. Lovell was happy.
When, a week later, at Paris, the gallant captain was informed of the trick that had been played upon him, there was a terrible scene. He cursed his wife, and threatened to leave her.
"But, Gregory, I have three hundred pounds income," she pleaded. "We can live abroad."
"And I have sold myself for that paltry sum!" he said, bitterly.
But he concluded to make the best of a bad bargain. Between them they had an income of five hundred pounds, and on this they made shift abroad, where living is cheap. But the marriage was not happy. He was brutal at times, and his wife realized sadly that he had never loved her. But she has all the happiness she deserves, and so has he.
Rudolph drank himself to death in six months. So the income which he was to receive made but a slight draft upon the Middleton estate.
And Tony!—no longer Tony the Tramp, but the Hon. Anthony Middleton, of Middleton Hall—he has just completed a course at Oxford, and is now thepossessor of an education which will help fit him for the responsibilities he is to assume. His frank, off-hand manner makes him an immense favorite with the circle to which he now belongs. He says little of his early history, and it is seldom thought of now. He has made a promise to his good friend, George Spencer, to visit the United States, and will doubtless do so. He means at that time to visit once more the scenes with which he became familiar when he wasA Poor Boy.