Alger Horatio Jr.
Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune
CHAPTER XXX.
THE ATTEMPTED ROBBERY
Dick Ralston was in the real estate office when the telegram was received. Indeed, he spent a good deal of his time there, so that it was supposed by some that he had a share in the business.
"Look at that, Dick!" said the bookkeeper, passing the telegram to his confederate.
"Confusion! What sends him home so soon?" said Ralston. "Do you suppose he suspects anything?"
"No. How can he? Perhaps," said Mullins, nervously, "we had better give up the whole thing. You see how I will be placed. I'm afraid I shall be suspected."
"Look here!" growled Ralston, "I don't want to hear any such weak, puerile talk. How do you propose to pay me the nine hundred and sixty-odd dollars you owe me? Do you expect to save it out of your salary?" he concluded, with a sneer.
"I wish we had never met," said the bookkeeper, in a troubled tone.
"Thank you; but it is too late for that. There is nothing to do but to carry out our program. How much money is there on deposit in the bank?"
"About twenty-four hundred dollars."
"Then we had better draw out more than eighteen hundred. As well be hanged for a sheep as for a lamb."
"You forget, Ralston, that such a wholesale draft will raise suspicion at the bank."
"You're awfully cautious."
"I don't want everything to miscarry through imprudence."
"Come, it is ten o'clock. Better send Felix to the bank."
"Better wait a little while. If we drew such a large amount just at the beginning of banking hours, the bank officers might suspect something."
"Cautious again. Well, wait half an hour, if you must. Call Felix and give him his instructions."
Felix Gordon came in at this moment, and was admitted to the conference.
"Felix," said the bookkeeper, "you remember the arrangement I made with you yesterday?"
"Yes, Cousin David."
"It is to be carried out to-day. I shall give you a check for eighteen hundred dollars, and you will receive the money and come from the bank here."
"Yes, Cousin David."
"You will carry the parcel in the left-hand pocket of your sack coat, and if it is taken you can appear to be unconscious of it."
"Yes."
"And—that is all you will have to do, except to say that a tall, thin man"—Ralston was short and sturdy—"jostled against you, and must have taken it."
"All right! I see. And I am to have twenty-five dollars for–"
"Your trouble. Yes."
"Give it to me now."
"Wait till you come back. Don't be afraid. You will get it."
"All right."
When Felix was on his way to the bank, he did not know that he was followed at a little distance by a small man with keen, black eyes, who, without appearing to do so, watched carefully every movement of the young office boy.
When Felix entered the bank, he also entered the bank, and stood behind Felix in the line at the paying teller's window.
He nodded secretly to the teller when that official read the check presented by Felix.
"Eighteen hundred dollars?" the latter repeated, aloud.
"Yes, sir," answered Felix, composedly.
"I shall have to go back to get it. We haven't as much here."
He went to another part of the bank and returned after a time with three packages. One was labeled one thousand dollars, another five hundred dollars and a third two hundred dollars. Then he counted out from the drawer beside him a hundred dollars in bills.
Felix, with a look of relief, took the three parcels and dropped them carelessly in the side pocket of his sack coat, and put the bills in loose. Then he started on his way back to the office.
Mr. Sharpleigh, for it was he, as the reader has doubtless guessed, walked closely behind him. He was not quite sure as to the manner in which the money was to be taken, but guessed at once when he caught sight of Dick Ralston at a little distance with his eyes intently fixed upon Felix.
The office boy sauntered along, with nothing apparently on his mind, and finally stopped in front of a window on Union Square, which appeared to have considerable attraction for him.
Then it was that the detective saw Ralston come up, and, while apparently watching the window also, thrust his hand into the pocket of the office boy and withdraw the package of money, which he at once slipped into his own pocket.
Mr. Sharpleigh smiled a little to himself.
"Very neat!" he soliloquized, "but it won't go down, my cunning friend."
Felix gave a little side glance, seeing what was going on, but immediately stared again in at the window.
Sharpleigh beckoned to a tall man, dressed as a civilian, but really an officer in plain clothes.
"Go after him!" he said, in a low voice, indicating Ralston.
Then he followed Felix, who in about five minutes began to show signs of agitation.
He thrust his hand wildly into his pocket, and looked panic-stricken.
"What is the matter, my boy?" asked Sharpleigh, blandly.
"Oh, sir, I have been robbed," faltered Felix.
"Robbed—of what?"
"I had eighteen hundred dollars in bank bills in my pocket, in four parcels, and—and they must have been taken while I was looking in at this window."
"You seem to have been very careless?" said Sharpleigh. "Why were you not more careful when you knew you had so much money in your care?"
"I—I ought to have been, I know it, sir, but I wasn't thinking."
"Where are you employed?"
"At Mr. Fairchild's office, on Fourteenth Street."
"The real estate agent?"
"Yes, sir."
"I know the place."
"My cousin is the bookkeeper. He will be so angry with me."
"I think he will have reason. I saw a man following you rather closely, I presume he took the money."
"Oh, won't you come back to the office with me and tell my cousin that? I am afraid he will discharge me."
"Yes, I will go with you."
So it happened that Felix and Mr. Sharpleigh went together into the office where Mullins was eagerly waiting for the return of his emissary.
"What's the matter, Felix?" he said, as the boy entered. "Have you brought the money?"
"Oh, Cousin David, I am so sorry."
"So sorry? For what?"
"I—I have lost the money. A pickpocket took it while I was looking in at a window. This gentleman was near and he saw a suspicious-looking man next to me."
"This is a strange story, Felix. We must notify the police at once. Did you see anyone likely to commit the theft, sir?"
This was, of course, addressed to Mr. Sharpleigh.
"Yes."
"You will be willing to testify to this at the police office? You see, this boy is my cousin. Mr. Fairchild is away, and I shall be blamed for this terrible loss. Why, there were eighteen hundred dollars in the parcel!"
"There were three parcels, and a roll of bills, Cousin David."
Mr. Mullins looked surprised.
"Then it was not all put in one parcel?" he said.
"No."
"That is strange. I—I don't know what to do. Mr. Fairchild has telegraphed that he will be at home sometime during the day. Probably I had better wait till he comes before notifying the police."
This he said in a questioning sort of way, as if asking Sharpleigh's advice.
"That will give the thief a chance to escape," suggested the detective.
"True. Perhaps you will be kind enough to leave word at the nearest police office. I only wish Mr. Fairchild were here."
"All right, sir," said the detective, "I will comply with your request."
He left the office, but it is needless to say that he didn't go far away.
"This is a very interesting comedy," he murmured, rubbing his hands, "a very interesting comedy, and apparently played for my benefit."
"Now, Felix," said the bookkeeper, "tell me how it all came out. Did the paying teller look suspicious when you presented the check?"
"No. He said he hadn't as much money in the drawer, and went to the safe in the back part of the bank. He returned with three parcels of bills in brown paper, and a hundred dollars loose."
"And then you put it in your pocket?"
"Yes, Cousin David; I did exactly as you told me. I put them in my pocket and walked back in a leisurely way."
"Did you see anything of Ralston?"
"Yes, I saw him out of the corner of my eye, while I was looking in at a window on Union Square."
"He took the money?"
"Yes. Now, Cousin David, give me the twenty-five dollars."
At that instant the door was opened suddenly, and Dick Ralston dashed into the office, looking very much excited.
"Mullins," he said, "we've been sold—sold—regularly sold. Look at this!" and he showed one of the brown packages partly torn open.
"Well," said the bookkeeper, "what's the matter?"
"Matter? Matter enough. Here's a package marked one thousand dollars, and it contains only slips of green paper in place of bills. You can see for yourself."
CHAPTER XXXI.
A DAY OF SURPRISES
The bookkeeper looked amazed.
He turned to Felix.
"Was this package given you at the bank?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Felix.
"I don't understand it. Do you think they suspected anything?" he continued, turning to Ralston.
"What could they suspect?" growled Dick. "It's a pretty trick for a respectable bank to play on a customer."
"Was all the money bogus?" asked Mullins.
"Here are a hundred dollars in good bills."
"Have you opened any of the other packages?"
"No, but I will."
The gambler tore off a little of the outer paper from the five-hundred-dollar and two-hundred-dollar packages, only to discover that their contents were no more valuable than those of the first bundle.
"I'd like to know what all this means," said Ralston. "Is it a trick of yours?" he demanded, looking suspiciously at Mullins.
"No. On my honor, no. It is very puzzling. They must have made a mistake at the bank."
"Send the boy back."
"It won't do. He has already reported that he has been robbed. It's—it's very awkward."
"You must do something," said Dick Ralston, harshly. "I'm not going to be swindled in this way."
It was at this point that the office door was heard to open. Mr. Sharpleigh entered and fixed his glance on Ralston.
"Mr. Mullins," he said, "you wish to know who robbed your office boy of the money he drew from the bank?"
"Yes," faltered Mullins.
"There he stands!" answered Sharpleigh, calmly, pointing to Ralston.
"It's a—lie!" exclaimed the gambler, but he turned pale.
"I saw the robbery with my own eyes." went on the detective, "and–" he turned his eyes to the door, which opened to admit a stalwart policeman.
"Arrest that man!" said the detective. "He lay in wait for the office boy, and on his return from the bank robbed him of a large sum of money which he had just drawn out."
"Who are you?" demanded Ralston, trying to brazen it out.
"I am James Sharpleigh, a detective."
Mullins listened in dismay, for Sharpleigh's name was familiar to him as one of the cleverest detectives in the city.
"And who authorized you to meddle in a matter that did not concern you?"
The answer came from an unexpected quarter. Mr. Fairchild, valise in hand and dusty with travel, entered the office. He heard the question, and quickly comprehended the situation.
"It is nearly two weeks," he said, "since I engaged Mr. Sharpleigh to watch what was going on in the office. Chester Rand telegraphed me that he had been discharged, and my suspicions were excited."
"So it's that boy!" muttered the bookkeeper, spitefully.
"I left all to the discretion of my friend Sharpleigh, who has justified my confidence. I shall have to ask him to throw light on the present situation."
This the detective did in a few brief sentences.
"Am I to arrest this man?" asked the policeman.
"Yes," answered the broker, sternly. "Mr. Sharpleigh, will you accompany the officer and prefer charges?"
"See here," said Ralston, with an ugly look, "I'm not going to be a scapegoat. Your bookkeeper put up this job."
Mr. Fairchild turned slowly and regarded David Mullins attentively.
"I will bear in mind what you say," he answered.
"I took nothing of value," continued Ralston, "and you can't hold me. Here are three packages filled with green paper."
"Yes," said Sharpleigh, "the bank teller was acting under my instructions. I took care, however, to have one roll of genuine bills."
When the three had left the office Mr. Fairchild turned to the bookkeeper.
"Mr. Mullins," he said, "what could induce you to engage in such a wicked plot?"
"I don't admit any complicity in the affair," replied the bookkeeper, in a surly tone.
"Have you seen Chester Rand lately?"
"I saw him last evening at the Fifth Avenue Hotel."
"Why did you discharge him?"
"I thought him unfit for his place."
"There may be a difference of opinion on that point. This boy," he added, significantly, "is a relative of yours, I believe."
"Yes."
"Will you give me an idea of what has been done during my absence?"
Together the broker and the bookkeeper went over the books. Then Mr. Fairchild went out to dinner.
He was no sooner out of the office than Mullins said: "Felix, remain here till Mr. Fairchild returns. I am going out on an errand."
He opened the safe, drew therefrom a small package and left the office.
Half an hour later he was on a Cortlandt Street ferryboat bound for the Jersey shore.
The package which he took with him contained four hundred dollars in bills, which he had drawn from the bank the day previous without the knowledge of his confederate. He had been providing for contingencies.
When Mr. Fairchild returned Felix delivered the message.
The broker at once looked suspicious.
"Did Mr. Mullins say where he was going?" he asked.
"Yes, sir. He said he was going out on an errand."
"Did he take anything with him?"
"I didn't observe, sir."
When Sharpleigh came in a little later he looked about him inquiringly.
"Where's Mullins?"
"I don't think we shall see him again very soon," and the broker told the detective what he knew about his disappearance.
Sharpleigh shrugged his shoulders.
"He has been too sharp for us," he said. "Do you want me to do anything?"
"No; his loss of place and reputation will be a sufficient punishment."
At the close of the day Felix said: "I suppose you don't want me any more."
"You can stay till the end of the week. I have not had time to form any plans."
"Do—do you think Cousin David will come back?"
"I think it very improbable," said the broker, seriously. "Can you throw any light on the events of to-day?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go on. Was the robbery planned?"
"Yes, sir. I was to receive twenty-five dollars for my share."
"I believe you know Chester Rand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know where he lives?"
"Yes, sir."
"Will you ask him to call here to-morrow?"
"I will, sir; but he tells me he has a good place, and would not care to return."
"I am aware of that. It is possible I may retain you–"
"Oh, sir, if you would!"
"On condition that you agree to serve me faithfully."
This was quite beyond the expectations of Felix.
"I will try to do so," he said, earnestly.
"You have begun well by confessing your share in the plot which came so near being successful. As your day's work is ended, I will consider the errand on which I am sending you extra, and will pay you for it."
The broker handed a half dollar to Felix, which he accepted joyfully.
"I don't much care if Cousin David has gone away," he soliloquized. "Mr. Fairchild seems a good sort of man, and I'll do my best to please him."
When Felix was ushered into Chester's presence the latter was just finishing a comic sketch for The Phœnix.
"What's that?" asked Felix, in surprise, for he was quite unaware of Chester's artistic gifts.
Chester showed it to him with a smile.
"Now you see how I am making my living," he said.
"Do you get pay for that?"
"Yes, certainly."
Then Felix bethought himself of his errand.
"There's a great row at the office," he said. "Mr. Fairchild has got home, Cousin David has run away and Mr. Ralston is arrested."
"That's a budget of news. When did Mr. Fairchild return?"
"This forenoon. He wants you to call to-morrow."
"All right. I will do so."
"And if he offers you back your old place you won't take it?" said Felix, anxiously. "If you don't, I think he'll keep me."
"Then I'll promise not to accept. I am better satisfied where I am. Have you had supper, Felix?"
"No."
"Then come and take supper with me. I go out about this time."
"It had certainly been a day of surprises," as Felix reflected when he found himself seated opposite a boy whom he had always disliked, as his guest.
CHAPTER XXXII.
EDWARD GRANGER
"I suppose you don't care to come back to the office, Chester?" said Mr. Fairchild, when Chester called upon him the next day at the office.
"I like my present position better," answered Chester; "besides, I suppose you are hardly prepared to offer me twenty-five dollars a week."
"Do you receive as much as that?" asked the broker, in amazement.
"Yes, sir."
"I congratulate you heartily," said Mr. Fairchild. "It is clear that you are too high priced for the real estate business."
"Felix tells me you may retain him."
"I will give him a chance. It depends upon himself whether he stays."
"I am very glad of it, sir. Felix has hardly been my friend, but now that his cousin is away he may improve. I certainly hope so."
"What shall you do about Ralston?" asked Chester, presently.
"I shall proceed against him. Such a man is a curse to the community. It was through him that my bookkeeper lost his integrity and ruined his prospects. If he is locked up he will be prevented from doing any more harm."
As Dick Ralston will not again figure in this story, it may be mentioned here that he was found guilty in the trial that soon followed, and was sentenced to a term of several years' imprisonment.
The bitterest reflection he had when sentence was pronounced was that his confederate, Mullins, had escaped and was a free man. Rogues may work together, but it is seldom that any tie of friendship exists between them.
Chester was now able to save money. Including what he received from Prof. Hazlitt, his income was about thirty-five dollars a week.
His personal expenses were greater than they had been, on account of having a more expensive room. Yet altogether they did not exceed twelve dollars per week, leaving him a balance of twenty-three.
Of this sum he proposed to send his mother a part, but she wrote that the liberal board paid by Miss Jane Dolby covered all her expenses.
"I hope if you have money to spare you will put it in some savings bank," she wrote. "At present we are well and prospering, but the time may come when our income will be diminished, and then it will be very comfortable to have some money laid aside."
Chester acted upon his mother's suggestion. He did not tell her how much he earned. He wished this to be an agreeable surprise at some future day.
Then Chester moved into a larger room. The hall bedroom which he had hitherto occupied was taken by a young man of nineteen named Edward Granger. He was slender and looked younger than he was.
He did not seem strong, and there was a sad expression on his face. Sometimes he called on Chester, but for several days they had not met. About six o'clock one afternoon Chester knocked at his door.
"Come in!" he heard, in a low voice.
Entering, he saw Edward lying on the bed face downward, in an attitude of despondency.
"What's the matter, Edward?" he asked. "Are you sick?"
"Yes, sick at heart," was the sad reply.
"How is that?" inquired Chester, in a tone of sympathy.
"I have lost my place."
"When was that?"
"Three days since. My employer has engaged in my place a boy from the country—his nephew—and I am laid aside."
"That is unfortunate, certainly, but you must try to get another place. Your employer will give you a recommendation, won't he?"
"Yes, I have one in my pocket, but it is not easy to get a new place, and meanwhile–" He hesitated.
"Meanwhile you are out of money, I suppose," said Chester.
"Yes; I couldn't save anything. I got only five dollars a week, and my room costs two. I suppose, when the week is up, Mrs. Randolph will turn me into the street."
"Not while you have a friend in the next room," said Chester, cordially.
Edward looked up quickly.
"Will you really be my friend?" he asked.
"Try me. Have you had supper?"
"I have not eaten anything for two days," answered Granger, sadly.
"Why didn't you call upon me? I wouldn't have seen you suffer."
"I didn't like to ask. I thought you would consider me a beggar."
"You will understand me better after a while. Now put on your hat and come out with me."
Edward did so, but he was so weak from long fasting that he was obliged to lean upon Chester in walking to the restaurant, which was luckily near by.
"Let me advise you to take some soup first," said Chester. "Your stomach is weak, and that will prepare it for heartier food."
"I don't feel hungry," returned Edward. "I only feel faint."
"It may be well not to eat very much at first."
"How kind you are! I must be two or three years older than you, yet you care for and advise me."
"Consider me your uncle," said Chester, brightly. "Now tell me how it happens that you didn't apply to some friend or relative."
A shadow passed over the boy's face.
"I have none in New York—except yourself."
"Then you are not a city boy."
"No; I came from Portland."
"In Maine?"
"No; in Oregon."
"You have relatives there?"
"A mother."
"I suppose you hear from her?"
Edward Granger was silent.
"I don't wish you to tell me if you have an objection."
"Yes, I will tell you, for I think you are a true friend. My mother is married again, and my stepfather from the first disliked me. I think it is because my mother had money, and he feared she would leave it to me. So he got up a false charge against me of dishonesty. My mother became cold to me, and I—left home. I am of a sensitive nature, and I could not bear the cold looks I met with."
"How long ago was this?"
"About six months since."
"You came to New York directly?"
"Yes."
"Where did you get the money to come?"
"I came by it honestly," answered Edward, quickly. "I had a deposit in a savings bank, put in during my own father's life. I felt I had a right to use this, and I did so. It brought me to New York, and kept me here till I got a place in an insurance office."
"And you managed to live on five dollars a week?"
"Yes; it was hard, but I went to the cheapest eating houses, and I—got along."
"But you had no money to buy clothing."
"I brought a fair supply with me. Now I am beginning to need some small articles, such as handkerchiefs and socks."
"I wondered you would never go to supper with me."
"I didn't want you to know how little I ordered. You might have thought me mean."
"Poor fellow!" said Chester, pityingly. "You have certainly had a hard time. And all the while your mother was living in comfort."
"Yes, in luxury, for she is worth at least fifty thousand dollars in her own right."
"I hope your stepfather has not got possession of it."
"He had not when I came away. My mother is naturally cautious, and would not give it to him. He attributed this to my influence over her, but it was not so. She is of Scotch descent, and this made her careful about giving up her property. She allowed him the use of the income, only reserving a little for herself."
"Have you had any communication with her since you left Portland?"
"I wrote her once, but received no answer."
"The letter may not have reached her. It may have fallen into the hands of your stepfather. What is his name?"
"Trimble—Abner Trimble."
"Was he in any business?"
"Yes; he kept a liquor saloon, and patronized his own bar too much for his own good."
"I shouldn't think your mother would like to have him in that business."
"She asked him to change it, but he wouldn't. He had a set of disreputable companions who made his saloon their headquarters, and he did not wish to give them up, as he might have had to do if he had gone into another business."
By this time supper was over, and the two walked to Broadway. Edward felt stronger, and his eye was brighter.
Suddenly he gripped Chester's arm.
"Do you see that man?" he asked, pointing to a black-bearded man on the other side of the street.
"Yes; what of him?"
"It is a gentleman from Portland, a neighbor of ours. What can he be doing in New York?"
