Kitabı oku: «The Last Cruise of the Spitfire: or, Luke Foster's Strange Voyage», sayfa 10
CHAPTER XXVII
MR. FELIX STILLWELL'S MOVE
I was thoroughly astounded at being confronted by my uncle Felix in Boston. I was under the impression that he was at his place in New York City, and for a moment I did not know what to do.
"Yes, sir, young man, don't you dare to break away, or the first policeman shall have you," he repeated, as he tightened his grasp.
"Let go of my collar!" was all I replied.
"Not a bit of it."
"Yes, you will."
And with a twist I pulled myself loose.
"Police!" he called loudly.
"Keep quiet," said I, "I'm not going to run away."
"Oh-ho! So you've had enough of it," he exclaimed in derision.
"Never mind what I've had. I am not going to run away, that's all."
"Seems to me you are getting mighty independent," he sneered.
"I have a right to be."
He looked at me sharply.
"What do you mean by that?"
"That is my affair."
"Why, you young rascal, I – "
"Hold up, Mr. Stillwell, I'm no rascal."
"Yes, you are! What have you done with that six thousand dollars you took from the safe?"
"I never took six thousand dollars from the safe, and you know it," I returned, with spirit.
As I spoke I noticed my uncle closely, and saw that he turned slightly pale.
"You took that money, Luke. What's the use of denying it longer?"
"You cannot prove it, Mr. Stillwell. I might as well say you took it."
"Why – why – you – you – " he stammered.
"Are you sure the safe contained six thousand dollars?" I went on.
"Of course I am! Didn't Mr. Grinder give me the money only the afternoon before?"
"And you are sure you placed it in the safe?"
"See here, boy; one would suppose I was the one who had committed the crime."
"And why not you as much as me?" I asked, as coolly as I could.
"Do you mean that I didn't place the money in the safe?" he demanded.
"That's just what I do mean."
"You young rascal – "
"Hold up, Uncle Felix, I – "
"I'm not your uncle any more! I disown you."
"I am willing to be disowned. You have not treated me rightly for years; in fact, ever since my father and mother died."
"I've done more for you than you deserved."
"You let me work like a slave for next to nothing. Now, if you think you are going to send me to prison on such a charge as this you are entirely mistaken."
"You come along with me, and you'll soon see."
"I am willing to come along; but you will get the worst of it, mark my words!"
After this we walked along in silence for a few feet. Now that he had me he was evidently at a loss what to do next.
"What brought you to Boston?" I asked, just to see what he would say.
"None of your business!"
"Oh; all right. I wondered how you knew I was here."
"You can keep on wondering."
I supposed I could. My words had evidently completely upset Mr. Stillwell.
"Are you ready to go to New York with me?" he asked suddenly.
I thought a moment. What of the examination in the morning?
"I will if you will let me go to the hotel first," was my reply.
"Been putting up at a hotel, have you? Nice way to live on other people's money!"
"Will you let me go?"
"Yes, but not for long."
"Are you going back to-night?"
"Certainly."
This was somewhat of a surprise to me. I had thought that he intended to wait until the arrival of Captain Hannock with the news of the loss of the Spitfire.
But his next words solved the problem.
"I shall not be satisfied until I have put you under proper care. You are a dangerous boy to have around."
Now it was perfectly clear. He intended to take me to New York, have me locked up, and then return by the next train to Boston. But for once Mr. Stillwell had missed his calculations.
"What hotel are you stopping at?"
"Ridgerow House."
"Humph! mighty fine place for you, it strikes me!"
"It is fine."
Seeing that he could make nothing out of me, he relapsed into silence.
It was not long before we reached the Ridgerow House.
"Is Mr. Ranson in?" I asked of the clerk.
"Yes, sir."
"Will you please send word that I would like to see him in the parlor at once?"
"Yes, sir."
Mr. Stillwell started on hearing the name.
"Whom did you ask for?" he inquired.
I told him.
"Oscar Ranson?"
"Yes, sir."
"What do you want of him?"
"That is my affair."
Mr. Stillwell was much disturbed. He walked up and down impatiently.
"Thought you said you were stopping at this hotel," he demanded.
"So I did."
"This doesn't look like it."
"I occupy a room with Mr. Ranson."
"Where did you meet him?"
"Excuse me, but that is my business."
At this reply my uncle was very angry. He wanted to let loose a flood of bad temper, but did not dare to do so in that public place.
CHAPTER XXVIII
ON THE CARS
In a few moments Mr. Ranson came down, followed by Tony Dibble. On catching sight of Mr. Stillwell, the lawyer was greatly surprised.
"Mr. Stillwell!" he exclaimed.
"How are you, Ranson," replied my uncle gruffly.
"Pretty well, but I didn't expect – "
"Neither did I."
"I came to see you before going to New York," I broke in hastily. "I met Mr. Stillwell at the depot, and he insists on my accompanying him back at once."
"Indeed!"
"And I wish to speak to you in private before I go," I added, in a whisper.
We walked to one side. Mr. Stillwell was itching to hear what was said, but I gave him no opportunity of doing so.
In a few hurried words I told the lawyer what had happened, and asked his advice.
"Go to New York with him, and keep him there if possible," said Mr. Ranson. "Mr. Henshaw or his agent will be down soon and arrest him. I will fix matters with the judge."
"Shall I say anything to him?"
"No, let Mr. Mason do it for you."
A little more conversation passed between us, and then I announced my readiness to start.
"And good luck go with you," said Mr. Ranson in a voice loud enough for Mr. Stillwell to hear, and it made his nose go up in anger.
"Hope you're done," he snarled.
"Yes, sir, quite finished."
"Then come along."
Mr. Stillwell marched me out of the hotel and down the street without further words.
"Going right to New York?"
"None of your business."
"But it is my business," and I stood still.
"Can't you see we are?" he retorted.
After this hardly a word passed between us. When he arrived at the depot he said sourly:
"I suppose you haven't any ticket?"
"I haven't."
"Have you any money to buy it with?"
"If you want me to go to New York you will have to buy me a ticket," was my reply.
We marched up to the ticket-office, and with very bad grace he purchased me a single ticket.
"When does the train start?" he inquired of the agent.
"In ten minutes."
"That suits. Come on;" the latter to me.
We boarded the train. Mr. Stillwell found a vacant seat in the middle of the car, and insisted on my taking the inside, next the window. Then he placed himself between me and the aisle.
"Now I want none of your fooling," he said, as he settled back.
I made no reply, and we rode on in perfect silence.
I sat awake for a long time. I could not speculate upon what the future held in store for me. I well knew that Mr. Stillwell was a deep one, and I determined to trust him no further than was absolutely necessary.
"When will we reach New York?" I asked.
There was no reply, and turning, I saw that his eyes were closed.
I was pretty sure he was shamming, and to prove it, made a slight movement as if to rise.
Instantly his eyes were wide open.
"No, you don't. Sit down there," he cried.
I repeated my question.
"Not before to-morrow morning."
Then he closed his eyes again, and I did not further disturb him.
Outside of the car all was dark, and as I could not see any of the scenery through which we were passing, the ride soon grew monotonous.
Finally my head began to fall forward; and before I knew it I was fast asleep.
I slept for about an hour. Then I awoke with a start.
Mr. Felix Stillwell's hand was in my coat pocket!
I could hardly believe the evidence of my senses when I found Mr. Stillwell's hand where it was. Was my uncle trying to rob me? I did not open my eyes, but moved slightly to one side, uttering a deep sigh as I did so. Instantly the hand was withdrawn, and when, a moment later, I sat up, I saw that he was lying back as if in the soundest sleep.
There was no more slumber for me that night, and in order to keep awake I sat bolt upright. This evidently did not please my companion, for presently he too sat up and looked at me sharply.
"You might as well go to sleep," he said. "We have a long ride before us. I thought I wouldn't go to the expense of tickets for the sleeping-car."
"I've had a nap," I replied.
"It wasn't very long."
"Long enough."
"Humph!"
My uncle sank back again, but I could see that he was put out. No doubt he had counted upon searching my clothing and finding some clew to what I had done and intended to do.
It was all I could do to keep awake, but I managed to do so with the aid of an early morning paper I bought on the train.
The paper was one from New York that had just come from the metropolis on the three o'clock paper train. I spread it open, and was rather startled to behold the following heading to one of the columns:
SET ON FIRE!
The Schooner Spitfire Given Over to the Flames.
Arrest of Captain Hannock for Trying to Defraud the Insurance Companies.
Was the Cargo Bogus?
And then followed a description of the arrest by Mr. Henshaw, and a harrowing account of two boys (Phil and myself), who had been left on board to be burned, and of the reasons for believing that the cargo was bogus, and that three New York merchants were supposed to be interested in the venture.
Of course the newspaper item was right in some particulars, but it was terribly overdrawn, and I could not help hut smile as I read it.
I wondered what Mr. Stillwell would say when he saw it. I determined to keep the paper away from him, it being time enough for him to hear of what had happened when he arrived in New York.
By the time I had finished reading the train was approaching the upper part of the city.
"Let me see the paper," said Mr. Stillwell.
As he spoke I had the paper rolled up and resting on the sill of the window, which was open. Not wishing to refuse him directly, I gave the sheet a slight shove with my arm, and this sent it fluttering away.
"It's gone," I replied. "It's dropped out of the window."
"You threw it out on purpose," he growled. "Luke, you're getting more uncivil every day."
"We have different opinions about that," I returned, with an air of utter indifference.
I knew he was too close to town to buy a paper then. There would be one at the office and he would wait until he could get that.
CHAPTER XXIX
BACK IN NEW YORK
We soon reached the depot, and, leaving it, took an Elevated train down town.
"Now, Luke, for the last and only time, are you going to give up that money?"
My uncle asked me that question as we alighted from the train.
"There is no necessity for your asking that question, Mr. Stillwell," I replied. "I have said all I care to on that subject."
"Do you know what I am going to do with you?"
"Have me locked up, I suppose."
"More than that; I am going to have you sent to the State prison for a number of years. I hate to do it, but it's the only way to manage you."
"Perhaps it won't be an easy matter to send me to prison."
"I have proof enough, never fear."
"I don't think so; and let me say, if you disgrace me by an arrest, I will make it as hot for you as I can."
"You are an angel, I must say."
"I don't pretend to be an angel. I'm nothing but an everyday boy, and I've got a temper just as well as any one. I've always tried to do my duty, both to you and to others, and I can't see why you should suspect me any more than Gus or one of your partners, or – or yourself."
"What!"
"Yes, I mean just what I say. I am not guilty, and I am half inclined to believe you know it."
"You villain!"
"If you have me arrested, I'll make you prove that you put the money in the safe and that Gus didn't take it out."
"You scamp! Do you think that any one will doubt my word?"
"Perhaps they will."
"I have been a well-known citizen here for twelve years; I think not."
"Folks don't all know you as I do. When they hear of some of the things you have done they will think differently."
"What things?"
"Never mind; you'll know soon enough."
Mr. Stillwell was evidently much disturbed. He pursed up his lips savagely.
"You speak as if I had committed some great crime," he cried.
"Maybe you have."
He grew pale for an instant; but quickly recovered himself.
"Don't try to scare me, Luke; it won't work."
"I am not trying to scare you."
"Yes, you are."
"I am only trying to prepare you for what may come."
"I want no help from you."
"Very well; but remember, you will be sorry for what you do."
I said no more, and my uncle did not continue the conversation.
It was not long before we reached Nassau Street. As we passed along I could not help but think of the day I had so unceremoniously left Mr. Banker and my uncle. How much had occurred since that time! What an experience I had had, and how much I had learned!
I speculated upon the time it would take for Mr. Banker to receive my letter and reach New York, and if Mr. Mason had heard from Mr. Ranson and would be ready for my return.
I hoped from the bottom of my heart all would yet be right. I hated the thought of going to jail, even if only for a few hours. I knew the stain would cling.
"What did Mr. Banker do after I left?" I asked.
"None of your business," growled Mr. Stillwell.
"He did not think I was guilty," I went on.
"I don't care what he thought."
"And Mr. Mason; did he think I was guilty?"
"Mr. Mason is a fool – always was."
From this I inferred that my lawyer friend had thought as Mr. Banker did – that I was innocent. This gave me not a little satisfaction.
"How did you come to meet Ranson?" he asked after a pause.
"I might say that it was none of your business – " I began.
"You scamp!"
"But I will not. I saved Mr. Ranson's life."
"Saved his life! I want none of your jokes, please!"
"I am not joking. He says I saved his life, and I am willing to take his word for it."
"How was it?"
"I was on board a boat, and his boat was swamped, so I pulled him on board."
"And so you became friends?"
"Yes, sir."
"Humph! you might have made a better choice!"
"I think Mr. Ranson a very nice man. He certainly treated me extremely well."
"He's of small account."
"He said you and he were not on good terms."
"What did he do for you for saving him?"
"He offered to do a great deal."
"I suppose so. He's mighty free as far as words go."
It made Mr. Stillwell feel sore to think I had so many friends. He knitted his eyebrows and said no more until we reached the office.
When we arrived we found no one but my cousin Gus in charge. Mr. Grinder was still away, and Mr. Canning had not yet arrived.
"Hello! so you're back!" exclaimed Gus. "Thought you'd get sick of running away."
I offered no reply, and he continued:
"What did you mean by insinuating that I took the money from the safe?"
"If you didn't, what were you doing in the office that morning when you said you were going to Coney Island?"
"Who says I was at the office?"
"I do; and I can prove it."
Gus reddened.
"Well, I will own up that I was here, but I didn't go near the safe."
"So you say. But if you didn't, what were you doing here?"
"Don't answer him, Augustus," put in my uncle sternly. "What right have you to cross-question my son?" he demanded, turning to me.
"If he doesn't answer I may have him arrested," was my firm reply.
"What!"
"I mean every word I say."
"Have me arrested!" cried Gus, turning pale.
"Yes."
"I – I came to put the office in disorder so that you would catch it," he faltered. "I tore up some paper and spilt the ink, but I didn't go near the safe."
"It was a mighty small revenge," was my reply.
"I – I – know it. But you stole the money," he continued triumphantly.
"I did not; and you will have a job to prove it."
"We'll do it, never fear. Won't we, pop?"
"I think we will, Augustus. But I fear Luke is in a very unhappy frame of mind. He doesn't seem to realize the enormity of his crime."
"He will when he's behind the bars."
"I trust so."
"I will never realize what I am not guilty of. What are you going to do with me next?"
"Just sit down until I finish the morning mail and you will see. Augustus, watch him so that he does not escape again."
"Don't fear. I told you I would not run away; and I always keep my word."
I sat down on a chair, and Mr. Stillwell began to look over his letters. I wondered what would happen next, but I was not quite prepared for what did happen.
Suddenly the door opened, and Mr. Canning rushed in. He held a morning paper in his hand, and was highly excited.
"What does this mean?" he demanded of my uncle.
"What does what mean, Mr. Canning?" asked Mr. Stillwell, as sweetly as he could.
"This account of the burning of the Spitfire?"
"Dear! dear! the Spitfire burned!" cried my uncle, wringing his hands in assumed anguish. "And I had a cargo on board of her, and but partly insured!"
"Yes; and this paper states that the vessel was set on fire by the captain and his accomplices," went on Mr. Canning.
With a bound my uncle was on his feet.
"It can't be true," he cried, hoarsely.
"The officers of the law claim that it is true. But that is not the worst of it. They claim that the cargo was a bogus one, and that you are guilty of fraud. Foster, here – "
Mr. Canning did not continue. With a deep groan my uncle had sunk back into his office chair like one dead!
CHAPTER XXX
AN UNEXPECTED DEATH
I was alarmed when my uncle fell back in his chair as one dead. I knew that his heart was affected, and that any sudden shock might prove serious to him.
"What's the matter?" asked Mr. Canning, starting forward.
"The news has been too much for him," I replied.
"You've killed my father!" cried Gus, white with fear. "He's troubled with his heart, and what you have said has done him up."
"I sincerely trust not," replied the junior partner. "Let us raise him up, and some one go for a doctor."
We made him as comfortable as possible and opened all the doors and windows. Then while Gus hurried off for a physician, Mr. Canning applied his ear to the unconscious man's breast.
"His heart still beats," he exclaimed. "I trust he gets over it."
We procured some water and bathed my uncle's face, and Mr. Canning poured some wine that was in the desk down his throat.
"Is this report true?" he asked as we were doing what we could for the unfortunate man.
"Yes, sir, it is."
The junior partner shook his head.
"I have suspected Mr. Stillwell for some time," he said slowly. "I was not in the firm a week before I was sorry I had invested my money with them."
"Do you think I am guilty?"
"Hardly, Foster; but Mr. Stillwell seemed so positive."
"I don't think the money was ever put in the safe, sir," I went on.
"What makes you think that?"
"Because Mr. Stillwell was not acting rightly about my late father's estate, and as I was beginning to suspect him he wished to get me out of the way."
"Ah, I see! I am afraid he has got himself in a bad fix."
"I am afraid so too, but it is not my fault, Mr. Canning."
A moment later Gus returned with a doctor. The physician shook his head when he beheld my uncle.
"I have been called to attend him once before," he said. "He is not at all strong, and this may prove worse than you imagine."
"Will it be fatal?" I cried.
"I trust not, but I cannot say for certain. The best thing is to get him home where he can have perfect quiet."
At these words Gus began to shed tears. I could not help but feel sorry for him, and also for my aunt and my cousin Lillian when they should hear the news.
I went out and procured the easiest coach I could find, and inside of it we placed Mr. Stillwell, with the physician beside him, and Gus on the seat with the driver.
"Are you coming along?" asked my cousin.
"No; but I will be up later," I replied.
We watched the coach out of sight up the busy street, and then Mr. Canning and I returned to the office.
"It is a bad state of affairs," said the junior partner. "I doubt, after what the doctor has said, if your uncle ever puts foot in the office again."
"I hardly know what to do," I replied.
And to tell the truth, my mind was in a whirl of excitement. The unexpected turn of affairs bewildered me.
While we were discussing matters there was a knock on the door, and Mr. Mason came in.
"What, Foster, back already! I knew you were coming, but did not expect you so soon."
"Did you receive Mr. Ranson's letter?" I asked.
"Yes; and came to have a talk with Mr. Stillwell. Where is he?"
In a few words I told him what had happened. The lawyer was much surprised.
"This will change things a great deal, especially if your uncle does not recover," he said. "I think we ought to go up to the house and see him."
"But he is very ill – " I began.
"All the more reason we should see him. He may have something to say before his death, if this stroke is fatal."
I could not help but shiver at the words. It seemed awful to me that my uncle should die, at such a time, when he was least prepared!
"I'll do whatever you think best, Mr. Mason," I replied.
"Then come. We will go at once. Delays are always dangerous."
In a moment more we were on the way. While seated in the Elevated car he asked me to tell him my whole story, and I did so, just as I have written it here.
"Will you let me see that letter from London?" he asked.
I did so. He read it carefully.
"I believe this Nottington is right," he said. "I have found that he is a gentleman in good standing, and that counts for much."
"I wish Mr. Banker had been my guardian from the start," I replied.
When we arrived at my uncle's home I found that he had been brought in but ten minutes before. The entire household was in a great state of alarm in consequence.
We met my aunt in the lower hall. No sooner did she catch sight of me than she swooped down upon me.
"You are to blame for all this, Luke Foster," she cried in her shrill voice.
"I can't see how," I replied as calmly as I could.
"You are. You upset him by robbing the safe and then running away."
"I don't think the boy is guilty, madam," put in Mr. Mason. "We all make mistakes, and – "
"There is no mistake here. If my husband dies this boy will be the sole cause."
And without waiting for a reply Mrs. Stillwell swept by us and up the stairs.
I took Mr. Mason into the parlor, a room that I hardly knew, although I had lived in the house about two years. Presently Gus came down the stairs.
"You here!" he exclaimed. "What brought you? Haven't you done harm enough?"
"I don't want to do harm. I thought I might just see your father, and then go away."
"Well, he just asked for you," was Gus's unexpected reply. "But ma said you weren't to be let up."
"If he asked I'm going," I said with a sudden determination.
I ran up the stairs at once. At the head I met Mrs. Stillwell.
"Where are you going?" she asked coldly.
"To see Uncle Felix."
"Well, I guess you are not!"
"Gus says he asked for me."
"I don't care. You shall not see the poor man."
"Excuse me, madam, but I will," I replied, and brushed past her and on to the door of my uncle's room.
She caught me by the arm.
"You just march downstairs!" she cried.
"Is that Luke?" came a feeble voice from within.
"Yes, Uncle Felix," I hastened to reply.
"Let him come in, dear; I must see him."
With a very bad grace Mrs. Stillwell allowed me to enter. At first she was about to follow, but her husband motioned her away, and she was forced to withdraw.
My uncle lay on the bed. His face was deadly white and awfully haggard. He held out his hand.
"I'm glad you've come, Luke," he said, with something that sounded like a sigh. "The doctor tells me I cannot last long."
"Oh, Uncle Felix!"
"Never mind, it is for the best. I have done wrong, and death is better than public disgrace. Did you come alone?"
"No, sir; Mr. Mason is with me."
"Mason!"
"Yes, sir; I asked him to come with me. He is to be my lawyer if I am arrested."
"Do not fear; you will not be. I own up; that money was not stolen. I was afraid you had brought with you the officers of the law. Do you know anything of this – this Spitfire affair?"
"I know all about it. I was on board the vessel when she burned."
"You!"
My uncle was greatly astonished, and he finally persuaded me to tell my story. When I had concluded he asked me to call up Mr. Mason, and I did so.
The three of us were closeted for fully an hour. What took place will be told hereafter.
At the end of the interview my uncle was very weak. The doctor was called in and he revived him, but it was not for long. He died at sundown.
His funeral, three days later, was a large one, made up, not only of mourners, but also of those who came out of curiosity to see the remains of the man who had lived such a double life.
