Kitabı oku: «Helping Himself; Or, Grant Thornton's Ambition», sayfa 5

CHAPTER XIII – TWO VIEWS OF TOM CALDER

Thus far nothing had been said about the compensation Grant was to receive for his work in the broker’s office. He did not like to ask, especially as he knew that at the end of the first week the matter would be settled. When he found that he was to remain for the present at the house of his employer he concluded that his cash pay would be very small, perhaps a dollar a week. However, that would be doing quite as well as if he paid his own board elsewhere, while he enjoyed a much more agreeable and luxurious home. He would be unable to assist his father for a year or two; but that was only what he had a right to expect.

When Saturday afternoon came, Mr. Reynolds said: “By the way, Grant, I must pay you your week’s wages. I believe no sum was agreed upon.”

“No, sir.”

“We will call it six dollars. Will that be satisfactory?”

“Very much so, Mr. Reynolds; but there will be a deduction for board.”

Mr. Reynolds smiled.

“That is a different matter,” he said. “That comes to you as Herbert’s companion. It is worth that to me to have my boy’s happiness increased.”

Grant was overjoyed at the bright prospect opened before him, and he said, with glowing face: “You are very kind, Mr. Reynolds. Now I shall be able to help my father.”

“That is very creditable to you, my boy. Willis, you may pay Grant six dollars.”

Willis Ford did so, but he looked very glum. He estimated that, including his board, Grant would be in receipt of twelve dollars a week, or its equivalent, and this was only three dollars less than he himself received, who had been in the office five years and was a connection of the broker.

“It’s a shame,” he thought, “that this green, country boy should be paid nearly as much as I—I must call and tell mother.”

Grant was a very happy boy that evening. He resolved to lay aside three dollars a week to send to his mother, to save up a dollar a week and deposit it in some savings bank, and make the other two dollars answer for his clothing and miscellaneous expenses.

On the next Monday afternoon Grant walked home alone, Mr. Reynolds having some business which delayed him. He thought he would walk up Broadway, as there was much in that crowded thoroughfare to amuse and interest him.

Just at the corner of Canal Street he came across Tom Calder. Tom was standing in a listless attitude with his hands in his pockets, with apparently no business cares weighing upon his mind.

“Hello, Grant!” he said, with sudden recognition.

“How are you, Tom?”

“I’m all right, but I’m rather hard up.”

Grant was not surprised to hear that.

“You see, there’s a feller owes me seven dollars, and I can’t get it till next week,” continued Tom, watching Grant’s face to see if he believed it.

Grant did not believe it, but did not think it necessary to say so.

“That’s inconvenient,” he remarked.

“I should say it was. You couldn’t lend me a couple of dollars, could you?”

“I don’t think I could.”

Tom looked disappointed.

“How much do you get?” he asked.

“Six dollars a week.”

“That’s pretty good, for a boy like you. I wish you’d take a room with me. It would come cheaper.”

“I shall stay where I am for the present,” said Grant.

He did not care to mention, unless he were asked, that he was making his home at the house of Mr. Reynolds, as it might either lead to a call from Tom, whom he did not particularly care to introduce to his new friends, or might lead to a more pressing request for a loan.

“Where are you boarding?” asked Grant, after a pause.

“In Clinton Place. I have a room there, and get my meals where I like. There’s a chap from your office that lives in the same house.”

“Who is it?” asked Grant, anxiously.

“It’s Willis Ford.”

“Is that so?” returned Grant, in surprise. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little. I don’t like him. He’s too stuck up.”

Grant made no comment, but in his heart he agreed with Tom.

“Are you doing anything?” he asked.

“Not just yet,” answered Tom, “I expect a good job soon. You haven’t a quarter to spare, have you?” Grant produced the desired sum and handed it to his companion. He didn’t fancy Tom, but he was willing to help him in a small way.

“Thanks,” said Tom. “That’ll buy my supper. I’ll give it back to you in a day or two.”

Grant did not think there was much likelihood of that, but felt that he could afford to lose this small sum.

Four days later he met Tom in Wall Street. But what a change! He was attired in a new suit, wore a fancy necktie, while a chain, that looked like gold, dangled from his watch pocket. Grant stared at him in amazement.

“How are you, Grant?” said Tom, patronizingly.

“Very well, thank you.”

“I hope you are a-doin’ well.”

“Very well. You seem to be prosperous.”

“Yes,” answered Tom, languidly, evidently enjoying his surprise. “I told you I expected to get into something good. By the way, I owe you a quarter—there it is. Much obliged for the accommodation.”

Grant pocketed the coin, which he had never expected to receive, and continued to regard Tom with puzzled surprise. He could not understand what business Tom could have found that had so altered his circumstances. He ventured to inquire.

“I wouldn’t mind tellin’ you,” answered Tom, “but, you see, it’s kind of confidential. I’m a confidential agent; that’s it.”

“It seems to be a pretty good business,” remarked Grant.

“Yes, it is; I don’t work for nothin’, I can tell you that.”

“I’m glad of your good luck, Tom,” said Grant, and he spoke sincerely. “I hope you’ll keep your agency.”

“Oh, I guess I will! A feller like me is pretty sure of a good livin’, anyway. Hello, Jim!”

This last was addressed to a flashily dressed individual—the same one, in fact, that Grant had seen on a former occasion with Tom.

“Who’s your friend?” asked Jim, with a glance at Grant.

“Grant Thornton. He’s from my place in the country. He’s in the office of Mr. Reynolds, a broker in New Street.”

“Introduce me.”

“Grant, let me make you acquainted with my friend, Jim Morrison,” said Tom, with a flourish.

“Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Thornton,” said Jim Morrison, jauntily, offering his hand.

“Thank you,” said Grant, in a reserved tone; for he was not especially attracted by the look of Tom’s friend. He shook hands, however.

“Come ‘round and see us some evenin’, Grant,” said Tom. “We’ll take you round, won’t we, Jim?”

“Of course we will. Your friend should see something of the city.”

“You’re the feller that can show him. Well, we must be goin’. It’s lunch time.”

Tom pulled out a watch, which, if not gold, was of the same color as gold, and the two sauntered away.

“What in the world can Tom have found to do?” Grant wondered.

CHAPTER XIV – WILLIS FORD’S NEW FRIENDS

When Harry Decker left the office at the end of two weeks, Grant was fully able to take his place, having, with Harry’s friendly assistance, completely mastered the usual routine of a broker’s office. He had also learned the names and offices of prominent operators, and was, in all respects, qualified to be of service to his employer.

Mr. Reynolds always treated him with friendly consideration, and appeared to have perfect confidence in him. For some reason which he could not understand, however, Willis Ford was far from cordial, often addressing him in a fault-finding tone, which at first disturbed Grant. When he found that it arose from Ford’s dislike, he ceased to trouble himself about it, though it annoyed him. He had discovered Ford’s relationship to Mrs. Estabrook, who treated him in the same cool manner.

“As it appears I can’t please them,” Grant said to himself, “I won’t make any special effort to do so.” He contented himself with doing his work faithfully, and so satisfying his own conscience.

One evening some weeks later, Grant was returning from a concert, to which the broker had given him a ticket, when, to his great surprise, he met Willis Ford walking with Tom Calder and Jim Morrison. The three were apparently on intimate terms.

“Good-evenin’, Grant,” said Tom.

“Good-evening, Tom.”

Grant looked at Willis Ford, but the latter’s lip curled and he did not speak. Grant, however, bowed and passed on. He was surprised at the intimacy which had grown up between Ford and those two, knowing Ford’s spirit of exclusiveness. He would have been less surprised had he known that Morrison had first ingratiated himself with Ford by offering to lend him money, and afterward had lured him into a gambling house, where Ford, not knowing that he was a dupe, had been induced to play, and was now a loser to the extent of several hundred dollars, for which Morrison held his notes.

“I don’t know when I can pay you,” said Ford, gloomily, when he came to realize his situation.

“Oh, something will turn up.” said Jim Morrison, lightly. “I shan’t trouble you.”

Two weeks later, however, he lay in wait for Ford when he left Wall Street.

“I want to speak to you a moment, Mr. Ford,” he said.

“Well, what is it?” asked Ford, uncomfortably.

“I am hard up.”

“So am I,” responded Willis Ford.

“But you owe me a matter of six hundred dollars.”

“I know it, but you said you wouldn’t trouble me.”

“I didn’t expect I should be obliged to,” said Morrison, smoothly. “But ‘Circumstances alter cases,’ you know. I shall have to ask you for it.”

“That’s all the good it will do,” said Willis, irritably. “I haven’t a cent to my name.”

“When do you expect to have?”

“Heaven knows; I don’t.”

Ford was about to leave his companion and walk away, but Morrison had no intention of allowing the matter to end so. He laid his hand on Ford’s shoulder and said, firmly: “Mr. Ford, this won’t do. Yours is a debt of honor, and must be paid.”

“Will you be kind enough to let me know how it is to be paid?” demanded Ford, with an ugly sneer.

“That is your business, not mine, Mr. Ford.”

“Then, if it is my business, I’ll give you notice when I can pay you. And now, good-afternoon.”

He made another attempt to walk away, but again there was a hand placed upon his shoulder.

“Understand, Mr. Ford, that I am in earnest,” said Morrison. “I can’t undertake to tell you how you are to find the money, but it must be found.”

“Suppose it isn’t?” said Ford, with a look of defiance.

“Then I shall seek an interview with your respected employer, tell him of the debt, and how it was incurred, and I think he would look for another clerk.”

“You wouldn’t do that!” said Ford, his face betraying consternation.

“I would, and I will, unless you pay what you owe me.”

“But, man, how am I to do it? You will drive me to desperation.”

“Take three days to think of it. If you can’t raise it, I may suggest a way.”

The two parted, and Willis Ford was left to many uncomfortable reflections. He knew of no way to raise the money; yet, if he did not do it, he was menaced with exposure and ruin. Would his stepmother come to his assistance? He knew that Mrs. Estabrook had a thousand dollars in government bonds. If he could only induce her to give him the custody of them on any pretext, he could meet the demand upon him, and he would never again incur a debt of honor. He cursed his folly for ever yielding to the temptation. Once let him get out of this scrape, and he would never get into another like it.

The next evening he made a call upon Mrs. Estabrook, and made himself unusually agreeable. The cold-hearted woman, whose heart warmed to him alone, smiled upon him with affection.

“I am glad to see you in such good spirits, Willis,” she said.

“If she only knew how I really felt,” thought her stepson. But it was for his interest to wear a mask.

“The fact is, mother,” he said, “I feel very cheerful. I’ve made a little turn in stocks, and realized three hundred dollars.”

“Have you, indeed, Willis? I congratulate you, my son. No doubt you will find the money useful.”

“No doubt of that. If I had the capital, I could make a good deal more.”

“But there would be the danger of losing,” suggested Mrs. Estabrook.

“That danger is very small, mother. I am in a situation to know all about the course of stocks. I wouldn’t advise another to speculate, unless he has some friend in the Stock Exchange; but for me it is perfectly safe.”

“Pray be careful, Willis.”

“Oh, yes. I am sure to be. By the way, mother, haven’t you got some money in government bonds?”

“A little,” answered Mrs. Estabrook, cautiously.

“How much, now?”

“About a thousand dollars.”

“Let me manage it for you, and I will make it two thousand inside of a month.”

Mrs. Estabrook had a large share of acquisitiveness, but she had also a large measure of caution, which she had inherited from her Scotch ancestry.

“No, Willis,” she said, shaking her head, “I can’t take any risk. This money it has taken me years to save. It is the sole dependence I have for my old age, and I can’t run the risk of losing it.”

“But two thousand dollars will be better than one, mother. Just let me tell you what happened to a customer of ours: He had above five hundred dollars in the savings bank, drawing four per cent interest—only twenty dollars a year. He had a friend in the Stock Exchange who took charge of it, bought stocks judiciously on a margin, then reinvested, and now, after three months, how much do you think it amounts to?”

“How much?” asked the housekeeper, with interest.

“Six thousand five hundred dollars—just thirteen times as much!” answered Willis, glibly.

This story, by the way, was all a fabrication, intended to influence his stepmother. Mrs. Estabrook never doubted Ford’s statement, but her instinctive caution saved her from falling into the trap.

“It looks tempting, Willis,” she said, “but I don’t dare to take the risk.” Ford was deeply disappointed, but did not betray it.

“It is for you to decide,” said he, carelessly, then drifted to other subjects.

Ten minutes later he pressed his hand upon his breast, while his features worked convulsively. “I believe I am sick,” he said.

“What can I do for you, my dear son?” asked the housekeeper, in alarm.

“If you have a glass of brandy!” gasped Willis.

“I will go downstairs and get some,” she said, hurriedly.

No sooner had she left the room than Willis sprang to his feet, locked the door, then went to the bureau, unlocked the upper drawer—he had a key in his pocket which fitted the lock and, thrusting in his hand, drew out a long envelope containing one five-hundred-dollar government bond and five bonds of one hundred dollars each, which he thrust into his side pocket. Then, closing the drawer, he unlocked the door of the room, and when his step-mother returned he threw himself back in his chair, groaning. He took the glass of brandy the housekeeper brought him, and, after a few minutes, professing himself much better, left the house.

“Saved!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “Now I shall be all right again.”

CHAPTER XV – AN ARTFUL TRAP

Willis Ford was anxious to get away. He feared that Mrs. Estabrook might go to the bureau and discover the loss before he got out of the house, which would make it awkward for him. Once out in the street, he breathed more freely. He had enough with him to pay his only debt, and give him four hundred dollars extra. It might be supposed he would feel some compunction at robbing his stepmother of her all. Whatever her faults, she was devoted to him. But Willis Ford had a hard, selfish nature, and the only thought that troubled him was the fear that he might be found out. Indeed, the housekeeper’s suspicions would be likely to fall upon him unless they could be turned in some other direction. Who should it be? There came to him an evil suggestion which made his face brighten with relief and malicious joy. The new boy, Grant Thornton, was a member of the household. He probably had the run of the house. What more probable than that he should enter Mrs. Estabrook’s chamber and search her bureau? This was the way Willis reasoned. He knew that his stepmother hated Grant, and would be very willing to believe anything against him. He would take care that suspicion should fall in that direction. He thought of a way to heighten that suspicion. What it was my readers will learn in due time.

The next day, at half-past eight o’clock in the morning, on his way down Broadway, Willis Ford dropped into the Grand Central Hotel, and walked through the reading room in the rear. Here sat Jim Morrison and Tom Calder, waiting for him by appointment.

Ford took a chair beside them.

“Good-morning,” he said, cheerfully.

“Have you brought the money?” asked Morrison, anxiously.

“Hush! don’t speak so loud,” said Ford, cautiously. “We don’t want everybody to know our business.”

“All right,” said Morrison, in a lower voice; “but have you brought it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a trump!” said Morrison, his face expressing his joy.

“That is to say, I’ve brought what amounts to the same thing.”

“If it’s your note,” said Morrison, with sharp disappointment, “I don’t want it.”

“It isn’t a note. It’s what will bring the money.”

“What is it, then?”

“It’s government bonds for six hundred dollars.”

“I don’t know anything about bonds,” said Morrison. “Besides, the amount is more than six hundred dollars.”

“These bonds are worth a hundred and twelve, amounting in all to six hundred and seventy-two dollars. That’s forty more than I owe you. I won’t make any account of that, however, as you will have to dispose of them.”

“I may get into trouble,” said Morrison, suspiciously. “Where did they come from?”

“That does not concern you,” said Ford, haughtily. “Don’t I give them to you?”

“But where did you get them?”

“That is my business. If you don’t want them, say the word, and I’ll take them back.”

“And when will you pay the money?”

“I don’t know,” answered Ford, curtly.

“Maybe he’ll sell ‘em for us himself,” suggested Tom Calder.

“Good, Tom! Why can’t you sell ‘em and give me the money? Then you can pay the exact sum and save the forty dollars.”

“I don’t choose to do so,” said Ford. “It seems to me you are treating me in a very strange manner. I offer you more than I owe you, and you make no end of objections to receiving it.”

“I am afraid I’ll get into trouble if I offer the bonds for sale,” said Morrison, doggedly. “I don’t know anybody in the business except you.”

“Yes, you do,” said Ford, a bright idea occurring to him.

“Who?”

“You know the boy in our office.”

“Grant Thornton?” said Tom.

“Yes, Grant Thornton. Manage to see him, and ask him to dispose of the bonds for you. He will bring them to our office, and I will dispose of them without asking any questions.”

“First rate!” said Tom. “That’ll do, won’t it, Jim?”

“I don’t see why it won’t,” answered Morrison, appearing satisfied.

“I would suggest that you see him some time today.”

“Good! Hand over the bonds.”

Willis Ford had already separated the bonds into two parcels, six hundred in one and four hundred in the other. The first of these he passed over to Jim Morrison.

“Put it into your pocket at once,” he said. “We don’t want anyone to see them. There is a telegraph boy looking at us.”

“I’m going to see if it is all there,” muttered Morrison; and he drew from the envelope the two bonds, and ascertained, by a personal inspection, that they were as represented.

“It’s all right,” he said.

“You might have taken my word for it,” said Willis Ford, offended.

“In matters of business I take no one’s word,” chuckled the confidence man.

“I wonder what they’re up to,” said the little telegraph boy to himself. “I know one of them fellers is a gambler. Wonder who that feller with him is? Them must be gov’ment bonds.”

Johnny Cavanagh was an observing boy, and mentally photographed upon his memory the faces of the entire group, though he never expected to see any of them again.

When Grant was hurrying through Wall Street about noon he came upon Tom Calder and Morrison.

“Hello, there, Grant,” said Tom, placing his hand upon his shoulder.

“What’s the matter, Tom? I’m in a hurry,” said Grant.

“Jim Morrison’s got a little business for you.”

“What is it?”

“He wants you to sell gov’ment bonds for him.”

“You’d better take them round to our office.”

“I haven’t got time,” said Morrison. “Just attend to them, like a good fellow, and I’ll give you a dollar for your trouble.”

“How much have you got?”

“Six hundred—a five hundred and a one.”

“Are they yours?”

“Yes; I’ve had ‘em two years, but now I’ve got to raise money.”

“What do you want for them?”

“Regular price, whatever it is.”

“When will you call for the money?”

“Meet me at Fifth Avenue Hotel with it tomorrow morning at nine o’clock.”

“I shall have to meet you earlier—say half-past eight.”

“All right. Here’s the bonds.”

Grant put the envelope into his pocket, and hurried to the Exchange.

When he returned to the office he carried the bonds to Willis Ford.

“Mr. Ford,” he said, “an acquaintance of mine handed them to me to be sold.”

“Some one you know?” queried Ford.

“I know him slightly.”

“Well, I suppose it’s all right. I’ll make out a check to your order, and you can collect the money at the bank.”

Grant interposed no objection, and put the check in his pocket.

“The boy’s fallen into the trap,” said Willis to himself, exultantly, as he proceeded to enter the transaction on the books.