Kitabı oku: «A Young Inventor's Pluck: or, The Mystery of the Willington Legacy», sayfa 2

CHAPTER IV
BAD NEWS FOR DEB

After her brother Jack had gone, Deb stood by the window a long time, watching the progress of the fire. She beheld the flames shoot up, heard the shrill whistle of the engines, and the shouts of the firemen, and finally saw the light subside.

She opened the window, and from the conversation of the passers-by she learned that it was Mr. Felix Gray's mansion that had been burned.

The little bronze clock upon the kitchen shelf struck four.

"Jack will be returning soon," she thought, "and he'll be awfully tired, too."

An hour passed. She had put on a loose wrapper and sat in the rocker, moving gently forward and backward. Presently the curly head began to nod, and after one or two feeble attempts to rouse up, Deb sank calmly into the land of dreams.

When she awoke, she found it was broad daylight, and the tread of many feet upon the pavement outside told that work had already begun.

"Eight o'clock!" exclaimed the girl. "What can keep Jack so long?"

Then the thought struck her that her brother had returned and retired without waking her, but a glance revealed the empty bed.

Deb's face blanched a trifle as the idea crossed her mind that maybe something had happened, after all. Fires were such dreadful things, with falling chimneys and half-burned staircases, and Jack was so daring, and so ready to risk his life for the benefit of others.

"I'll go down to Mrs. Snitzer's and find out about it," was her conclusion, and locking the door she descended the stairs.

Mrs. Snitzer was a German woman, who, with her husband and three stalwart sons, occupied the floor below. She was a stout, kindly-faced woman of about fifty, had been Deb's neighbor for a year, and took a genuine interest in the girl and her brother.

"Your brudder no got home yet from der fire?" she said, after Deb had stated the object of her morning call; "I thought der fire vas out long ago. Mine boys come home, and vent to ped again, aput five o'clock. Da don't work now, so da say: 'Mudder, ve take a goot sleep for vonce in our lifes;'" she added, with a broad smile.

"Jack's out of work, too," said Deb, soberly.

"Yah? Vat a shame! Nefer mind, it don't last forefer. Come, have some coffee mit me. My man ist gone out for the baber. He come back soon."

The good woman set out one of her low chairs, and knowing that Mrs. Snitzer's invitations were genuine, the girl sat down, and allowed herself to be helped to a bowl of the steaming beverage, accompanied by several slices of sugared zweibach.

Just as the two were finishing Mr. Snitzer came in, paper in hand.

His face grew troubled upon seeing Deb.

"I vas sorry for you," he said, approaching her.

"Sorry for me?" repeated the girl, with a puzzled look. "Why, Mr. Snitzer?"

"Gracious! Didn't you hear?" returned the man, dropping his paper in astonishment.

"Hear what?" faltered Deb.

Mr. Snitzer spoke in German to his wife, who jumped to her feet.

"Nein! nein!" exclaimed the woman, vehemently. "He nefer done dot-nefer in his whole life!"

And then as gently as possible Mrs. Snitzer related how Jack had been accused by Mr. Felix Gray of setting fire to the mansion, and was now languishing in the town jail.

Deb's outburst was dreadful to behold. She threw herself upon the old German woman's breast and sobbed as if her heart would break. Her Jack-her own dear brother, in prison! The only one she had in the wide world taken away from her, and sent to a criminal's cell! It was too horrible to realize.

"How cruel of them to do it!" she moaned. "And he is innocent, too. He was home when the fire broke out;" and she shook her head in despair.

"Of course he didn't do it," said Mr. Snitzer. "All der men say so. Jack vas as steady as anypody. I dink it vas some of der hot-headed men vas guilty."

"So don't cry, my dear girl," added Mrs. Snitzer, sympathetically. "It vill come out all right by der end;" and she took one corner of her clean gingham apron and wiped the tear-stained cheeks.

"Where is the-the jail?" asked Deb presently, in a low voice.

Mr. Snitzer described its location.

"You don't vas going there!" exclaimed the German woman.

"Yes, I am," declared the girl, resolutely, with a sudden, strong look in her beautiful eyes.

"But it vas a terrible bad blace," Mrs. Snitzer ventured to remark.

"I don't care," replied Deb. "I won't mind going where Jack is. I must see if I can't do something for him."

Deb ran up stairs. Her heart was full of fear, and beat wildly.

She exchanged her wrapper for a suitable dress, and arranged her hair. As she was adjusting her hat, there was a knock on the door, and thinking Mrs. Snitzer had come up, she bid the person enter.

"Ah, just in time, I see!" was the exclamation, made in Mr. Hammerby's voice.

Deb's face clouded even more than before.

"Oh, dear, you here?" she ejaculated in vexed tones.

"Yes; on hand, as I always am," replied the agent, removing his hat. "I suppose you are ready with the rent?"

"No, I haven't the money," replied Deb. Somehow it was all she could manage to say.

"Your brother was unable to raise the amount?"

"He hasn't had time to try."

"I'm sorry, but as I said before 'business is business,' and I'll have to serve the notice," and drawing a paper from his pocket, Mr. Hammerby handed it over.

It was a regular notice drawn up in due form, demanding that in three days they quit the place.

Deb read it, but in her excitement did not notice that the avaricious agent had dated it one day back.

"And must we leave in three days?" she faltered.

"Most assuredly-unless you raise the cash."

"But where will we go?" continued the girl hopelessly.

"That's for you to decide," was the answer. Mr. Hammerby had gone through so many "scenes," as he termed them, that the evident suffering of the person he addressed did not affect him.

"But we haven't got anywhere to go," burst out Deb.

"Well, that's not my fault, is it?"

"No, but-"

"Then it's pay or leave," was the cold reply.

"What's up now, Mr. Hammerby?" asked a quiet voice from the hallway.

It was the nephew of the tool manufacturer who had come. His name was Monteray Gray-the Monteray being generally shortened to Mont. He was a young man of twenty, and kept the books for the shipping department of the tool works.

"What, Mr. Gray, is that you?" exclaimed the agent, taken back at the sudden interruption. "Oh, it's only the same old story of no money for the landlord," he added.

Mont looked at Deb. He knew both her and Jack very well.

"I am sorry to hear it," he said, with a pained face.

"It's all because of the shut-down at the factory," explained Deb, who, for a purely womanly reason wanted to set herself right with the young man.

In a few short words she made him acquainted with the situation. Involuntarily Mont's hand went down in his pocket, and then he suddenly remembered that he had no money with him.

"See here, Mr. Hammerby," he said, "you had better take this notice back. There is no doubt that you will get your money."

"Can't do it," replied the agent, with a decided shake of the head.

"But my uncle would never consent to having them put out," persisted the young man.

"Mr. Gray's orders are to give notice to any one who doesn't pay," returned Mr. Hammerby, grimly; "I'm only doing as directed."

"But this is an outrage!" exclaimed Mont. "My uncle virtually owes Mr. Willington twenty odd dollars, and here you intend to put him out for a few dollars rent."

"You can see your uncle about it, if you wish. I shall stick to my orders."

"Then you won't stop this notice?"

"No."

"Very well," replied Mont, quietly.

"I'm hired to do certain things, and I'm going to do them," continued the agent. "Besides, I just heard this morning that this fellow is locked up for setting fire to your uncle's house. I should not think that you would care to stick up for him," he went on.

"But I do care," returned the young man, with a sudden show of spirit. "He is a friend of mine, and I don't believe him guilty."

"Humph! Well, maybe. It's none of my business; all I want is the rent, and if they can't pay they must leave," said Mr. Hammerby, bluntly. "Good morning," he continued to Deb, and without waiting for more words, turned and left the apartment.

"I am sorry that my uncle has such a hard-hearted man for his agent," observed Mont to Deb with a look of chagrin on his face.

"So am I," she replied, and then suddenly; "Oh, Mont, Jack is-"

"I know all about it," he interrupted. "I've just been down to see him. He gave me this note for you," and Mont handed the note to Deb.

CHAPTER V
FINDING BAIL

Jack hardly realized what arrest meant until he heard the iron door clang shut, and found himself in a stone cell, scarcely six feet square, with nothing but a rough board upon which to rest.

He sat down with a heart that was heavier than ever before. The various misfortunes of the day had piled themselves up until he thought they had surely reached the end, and now, as if to cap the climax, here he was arrested for the burning of a place that he had worked like a beaver for two hours to save.

He wondered how Mr. Felix Gray had come to make the charge against him. He could think of no reason that could excite suspicion, saving, perhaps, his rather hasty words in the tool manufacturer's library the afternoon previous.

"I suppose he thinks I did it out of revenge," thought the young machinist; "but then there are men-like Andy Mosey, for instance-who have threatened far more than I. Guess I can clear myself-by an alibi, or some such evidence."

Nevertheless, he chafed under the thought of being a prisoner, and felt decidedly blue when Deb entered his mind. What would his sister think of his absence, and what would she say when told what had happened?

"Maybe I can send her word," he said to himself, and knocked loudly upon the door.

The watchman was just asleep on a sofa in an adjoining room and did not hear him.

Failing to attract attention in this way, Jack began to kick, and so vigorously did he apply his heels that he awoke the sleeper with such a start that he came running to the spot instantly.

"Can I send a message home?" asked the young machinist.

"Not till morning," was the surly reply; "is that all you want?"

"Yes. Isn't there any way at all?" persisted Jack. "I have a sister who will worry over my absence."

The man gaped and opened his eyes meditatively.

"You might if you was willing to pay for it," he replied, slowly.

"I have no money with me," replied Jack, feeling in his pockets to make sure.

"Have to wait till morning then," was the short reply, and the young machinist was once more left alone.

He was utterly tired out, and in the course of half an hour fell into a troubled slumber, from which he did not awaken until called.

"Some one to see you," were the watchman's words, and the door opened to admit Mont Gray.

Mont was a tall, thin young man. He had a large brow, deep, dark eyes, and a strangely earnest face. He was quiet in his way, attended punctually to his office duties, and was on much better terms with the hands at the tool works than his uncle had ever been. He was the only son of Mr. Felix Gray's youngest brother, who had died a widower some twelve years before-died, some said, and put out of the way, others whispered. That there was some mystery connected with those times was certain. Rumor had it that Felix Gray had crowded his brother out of the business in which he originally owned a half share. This transaction was followed by Monterey Gray's sudden disappearance. Felix Gray gave it as his opinion that his brother had departed for Australia, a place of which he had often spoken.

Young Mont-he was named after his father-had been taken to live with his uncle, who kept bachelor's hall in fine style.

The boy got along as best he could under the sharp guardianship of Mr. Felix Gray, who, as soon as he could, placed Mont at one of the desks, where he was now allowed to earn his board and four dollars a week.

His position at the tool works brought him into daily contact with Jack; and, during the past two years, a warm friendship had sprung up between them. He knew all about the young machinist's ambition, and had spent many an evening at the Willingtons' apartments watching Jack work, and chatting to Deb, with whom, as is known, he was on good terms.

"Hello, Mont!" exclaimed Jack, "what brings you here? Did your uncle send you?"

"Send me!" said the young man. "No, indeed! he doesn't even suspect I'm here; if he did he would raise a row, sure."

"Then you don't believe I'm guilty?" began Jack, somewhat relieved.

"Humph! Nonsense! I only wonder uncle Felix thinks so," returned Mont. "It seems to me that the evidence of a match safe is a mighty slim one."

This was news to the young machinist.

"Why, what about a match safe?" he asked.

"Didn't you hear?" was Mont's question, in surprise. "They found a match safe with your last name on it, in the basement."

Jack sprang up in astonishment.

"Was it a small silver safe, with a bear's head on one side, and a lion's on the other?" he asked.

"Yes; then it is yours?"

"Yes, it's mine. But I haven't seen it for nearly a month," burst out the young machinist. "I missed it out of my pocket, and suspected Andy Mosey of having taken it, though I could not prove it. But I see it all now. Mosey was speaking of revenge up at the bank yesterday morning, and he has done the deed, and used my property to throw suspicion on me."

"But he wouldn't do such a mean thing unless he had a grudge against you," remarked Mont.

"He has several of them. More than once, when he was drunk, and came interfering around my work, I threatened to report him. Besides, I have the job he always thought his son Mike should have."

"I see. But can you prove that he had the safe?"

"I don't think I can. But I believe I can prove that I lost it, and was home when the fire started?"

"Does Deb know you are here?" asked Mont, suddenly.

"Not unless some one else has let her know. Will you take her a note?"

"Certainly; I was going to suggest that very thing. I intended to call on her."

Jack took the sheet of paper that Mont supplied and wrote a few words of cheer to his sister.

"I'll tell her the particulars," said the young man, as he pocketed the letter. "Is there anything else you want done?"

"Nothing now. Maybe there will be later on."

"I'll do what I can for you," continued Mont, "even if my uncle doesn't like it;" and he stepped out of the cell.

Half an hour later Jack was brought out for examination. The court room was crowded with the now idle men, and many were the expressions of sympathy for the young machinist, and denunciation for Mr. Felix Gray's hasty action.

The tool manufacturer himself did not appear. The officer who made the arrest said that the excitement of the past two days had made the plaintiff quite ill.

The hearing was a brief one. The match safe was the only evidence produced against Jack, and as he had no means of proving his innocence then and there, it was decided to hold him to wait the action of the grand jury, three weeks later. Bail was fixed at one thousand dollars-a sum that was thought amply sufficient to keep any one from becoming his bondsman.

Meanwhile, Mont had delivered the note, as already recorded, and while being led out of the court room, Jack recognized the young man in the crowd, and an instant later found Deb at his side.

"Oh, Jack!" was all the poor girl could say, and clinging to his arms, she began to sob outright.

To see Deb cry made the young machinist feel worse than did his incarceration. He drew his sister to one side-away from the public gaze, and comforted her the best he could.

But the thought of going to prison was too terrifying to be subdued.

"Three weeks before they will hear what you have to say!" she exclaimed. "If you could only find that Mosey!"

"But he has left," put in Mont; "I tried everywhere to find him. Maybe you can get bail."

"I can't get it while I'm in prison," returned Jack, gloomily.

"I'll take you anywhere you wish to go," said the under-sheriff, who had him in charge. He was a married man, had daughters of his own, and Deb's anguish went straight to his heart.

Jack thought a moment. "Perhaps I might get Mr. Benton to go on my bond," he said.

The man he referred to was the wealthy speculator who had examined the model and praised the invention.

"But he would want security. Perhaps I'd have to sign over my rights to him," he continued with a sigh.

"It would be a shame to do that," said Mont. "You expect so much from the patent."

"But you wouldn't lose it unless you ran away," put in Deb; "and of course you're not going to do that."

Jack gave another sigh.

"I'll go and see him anyway," he said.

CHAPTER VI
HOME ONCE MORE

A little later Jack and Mont separated, and in company with the constable, the young machinist called on Mr. Benton at the Coney House.

The speculator listened attentively to Jack's story. He was shrewd, a close reader of human nature, and thought he saw a chance of securing a bargain or of placing the embryo inventor under obligation to him.

"Tell you what I'll do," he said. "Give me a paper securing to me your invention if you don't turn up at the proper time, and I'll go your bond, providing-" and here Mr. Benton paused.

"What?" asked Jack eagerly.

"Providing you give me a half interest in it now."

Jack staggered back.

"A half interest?"

"That's what I said."

"But, sir-"

"You haven't got to accept my offer if you don't wish to," was the apparent indifferent reply.

Had he thought only of himself Jack would have refused. To give up that for which he had worked for years was terribly hard.

But Deb, dear Deb, what would become of her if he did not accept?

"I'll do it," he said, shortly. And then, with a sudden thought: "But you must give me a money consideration."

"How much?" asked the man of means.

"One hundred dollars." Jack knew Mr. Benton would offer less.

"Too much! I'll give you twenty-five."

"No; a hundred."

"Make it fifty. I can't spare a cent more. Besides, the thing may not be worth a dollar."

"Or several thousand," put in Jack. "But I accept the offer."

"Very well. I'll pay you the money to-morrow. I'm short to-day."

Knowing that with all his sharp business practice Mr. Benton was a man of his word, the young machinist did not object to waiting for his cash.

In his excitement he forgot all about Mr. Hammerby and the rent that must be paid.

It was fully an hour before the necessary papers were drawn up and signed, and then with hasty steps Jack made his way home.

Deb met him at the door, and at once he had to give her the particulars of what had been done.

"Never mind, anything is better than having you in prison," she said when he had finished. "And it may be just as well to have Mr. Benton for a partner now as to give him the chance of getting the whole thing later on."

Deb was delighted to learn that they were to receive fifty dollars in cash the next day.

"I'll be so glad to get rid of that horrid agent," she declared, and showed Jack the notice to quit.

In looking it over he discovered that it had been dated the day before.

"The mean fellow!" he exclaimed. "He thinks to get us out one day sooner than the law allows. Won't he be astonished when I pull out the roll of bills and pay him?"

In anticipation of the money soon to be received, and in honor of Jack's release, Deb prepared quite an elaborate dinner.

It nearly took her breath away when she discovered that the outlay footed up to nearly a dollar-a large sum for them. But then her brother did delight in cutlets, with potatoes and green corn, and somehow the table wouldn't have looked complete without some stewed prunes and a pudding-dessert-the latter just fixed to tickle Jack's palate.

During the meal Mont slipped in, and was compelled to sit down with them. He was delighted to see the young machinist free, but shook his head over the price that had been paid for liberty.

"What do you intend to do now?" he asked.

"Find Andy Mosey, if I can, and have him arrested," replied Jack. "It is the only way, I believe, that I can clear myself."

"It isn't likely you will find him," remarked the young man. "He will no doubt keep shady for a while."

"I shan't look for him to-day, excepting to strike a clue," was the young machinist's reply.

After the meal was finished, and Mont had gone, Jack announced his intention to do the repairs that he had promised Farmer Farrell.

"I might as well do them at once," he said to Deb, "it will be several dollars in pocket, and we need all the money we can get now. If this case goes to trial I'll have to hire a lawyer, and they charge heavily."

"So, I've heard," replied Deb, "but I wouldn't mind that if only you get free."

"I'll try my best," replied Jack taking up his kit of tools.

"When will you be back?" she asked as he started to go.

"I can't say. It depends on the job. Don't worry if it is late."

"All right; I'll keep the supper warm till you come."

So young, and yet a perfect housekeeper!

"She'll make some fellow a good wife one of these days," said Jack to himself as he strode along.

It was a fine day, and the walk by the river side was a delightful one, but the young machinist scarcely noticed the surroundings. His mind was busy with the numerous difficulties that had risen round him, and he endeavored to lay out a definite plan of action by which to extricate himself.

When he arrived at the farm, he found his acquaintance of the previous day hard at work on the patent rake, which he had taken almost entirely apart.

"Just in time, young man!" exclaimed farmer Farrell, wiping the perspiration from his brow; "I thought, seeing as how you didn't come this morning, I'd see what I could do myself. But the job's a leetle too much for me. I've got the pesky thing apart and can't put two pieces together again."

"That's because you don't understand machinery and haven't the tools," replied the young machinist, and taking off his coat, he set to work at once.

He picked out the worn screws and bolts and substituted the new ones which he had brought. Then he sorted out the various parts in their proper order, and examined each critically.

"This bit of iron that guides the pressure spring is warped," he remarked. "Did the rake pull hard when the left side was lower than the right?"

"Yes, and squeaked, too."

"Then, that's the cause of it, and all the oil in the world wouldn't help it."

"Can you fix it?" asked the farmer, anxiously.

"I can if I can get a hot fire," replied Jack.

"I'll start it up at once," returned farmer Farrell, and he disappeared into the house.

When he had the fire well under way, Jack heated the part, and gave it the proper shape. Then he put the machine together, adjusted it carefully, and oiled the parts.

"Guess it's all right now," he said, lifting it over.

"We'll soon see," returned the farmer. Going to the barn he brought out one of the horses and hitched him to the machine. Then he mounted the seat and drove up and down the field several times.

"Works like a charm!" he declared. "You understand your trade and no mistake. How much for the job?"

This question was a stickler to Jack. He did not wish to ask too much, and he could not afford to ask too little.

"They would charge you three dollars at the machine shops," he said.

"Then I suppose that's what it's worth," continued the farmer. He was a whole-souled man, and was taken by Jack's outspoken manner. "But there's the other things to do yet," he continued.

"I know it; so we'll put this job at two dollars," said the young machinist.

"Never mind, I'm satisfied to pay three," laughed farmer Farrell. "Come into the barn; I've found quite a lot of stuff that needs doctoring, and I want you to put everything in first-class shape."

"I'll do my best."

Farmer Farrell led the way, and Jack was soon as busy as a bee, putting the machines in running order and overhauling other farming implements.

"Why didn't you stop this morning?" asked the farmer, presently. He had intended going reaping, but Jack's handy use of tools interested him and made him linger.

In an easy manner that did not interfere with his work, the young machinist narrated the particulars of what had occurred to detain him.

"Well, now, that beats all! Trouble piling right up on top of ye! Wonder if I don't know this Mosey," continued the farmer, reflectively. "Is he a short man with a red beard?"

"Yes."

"Didn't he use to work over to Redrock?"

"I believe he did."

"Then I reckon I do. He's a bad egg. I used to sell the company he worked for hay for packing, and Mosey used to weigh it. Several times, when I was sure it was correct, he reported short, and when I spoke to him about it, he said it would never be right until I made it right with him, or, in other words, paid him for his good will."

"How did it turn out?" asked Jack, interested in the story.

"Oh, I spoke of it to the owners, but they believed his side of the story, and I lost their trade. But, all the same, he was discharged a month later for being drunk. If I ain't mistaken, I saw him pass early yesterday morning."

"I just wish I could lay hands on him," returned the young machinist; "I don't believe he would keep out of the way if he wasn't guilty."

"Maybe I'll see him," said the farmer. "If I do I'll watch him, and let you know."

It was close on to six o'clock when Jack finished the work. During the afternoon he had done jobs for which he asked five dollars, and farmer Farrell, who knew that he would have been charged twice as much in the town, paid the bill without a murmur.

Ten minutes later, with his kit under his arm, and the new five-dollar bill tucked safely in his vest pocket, the young machinist started for home.

The sun was setting, and the road, shaded for its greater part by large trees, was growing dark rapidly.

About midway of the distance to Corney stood an old mill, abandoned several years before, whose disused water-wheel still hung idly over the swiftly flowing river beneath.

It was a ghostly looking structure, and having the reputation of being haunted, was seldom visited, except by adventurous tourists and by amateur photographers, who remained at a safe distance to take views of the really picturesque locality.

As Jack passed the mill, he saw a man approach from the opposite direction. Judge of his astonishment when he recognized the individual as Andy Mosey!

He had seen the young machinist at the same instant, and turning rapidly from the road, he darted to one side of the mill.

For a second Jack stood still, hardly able to move. But he quickly recovered, and dropping his kit, which was heavy, he started in pursuit.

"He shall not escape me," he resolved. "He is larger than I, but I am not afraid to meet him face to face."

There was a large shed attached to the mill, and entering this, the young machinist looked carefully around to see if he could find any trace of the man. But a brief search assured him that the place had not been disturbed for months.

Passing through the partly open door, he entered the lower floor of the mill, and found himself in the presence of Dennis Corrigan, Mosey's brother-in-law.

"What do you want here?" demanded Corrigan, springing up from the bench upon which he had been seated.

Jack could hardly form a proper reply. With two men against him, he realized that he was in a bad fix.

"Why, I didn't know that you were here, Corrigan," he began. "I thought-"

Jack never finished the sentence. He heard a noise behind him, but before he could turn to see what it was, he received a cruel blow on the head, and then all became a dark, terrible blank.