Alger Horatio Jr.
Chester Rand; or, The New Path to Fortune
CHAPTER XIII.
MR. MULLINS, THE BOOKKEEPER
Chester felt that it was necessary to be on his guard. The bookkeeper was already his enemy. There were two causes for this. First, Mr. Mullins was naturally of an ugly disposition, and, secondly, he was disappointed in not securing the situation for his cousin.
At noon the latter made his appearance. He was a thin, dark-complexioned boy, with curious-looking eyes that somehow inspired distrust.
He walked up to the desk where the book keeper was writing.
"Good-morning, Cousin David," he said.
"Good-morning, Felix. Sit down for a few minutes, and I will take you out to lunch."
"All right!" answered Felix. "Who's that boy?" he inquired, in a low voice.
"The new office boy. Wait till we go out, and I will tell you about it."
In five minutes David Mullins put on his hat and coat and went out with his cousin.
"Stay here and mind the office," he said to Chester, "and if anybody comes in, keep them, if possible. If any tenant comes to pay money, take it and give a receipt."
"All right, sir."
When they were in the street, Felix asked:
"Where did you pick up the boy? Why didn't I get the place?"
"You must ask Mr. Fairchild that. He engaged him without consulting me."
"What sort of a boy is he?"
"A country gawky. He knows nothing of the city."
"Is he a friend of Mr. Fairchild?"
"Fairchild never met him before. Some beggarly artist interceded for him."
"It is too bad I can't be in the office. It would be so nice to be in the same place with you."
"I did my best, but Fairchild didn't seem to fancy you. I think he took a prejudice against you on account of your smoking cigarettes. He must have seen you with one."
"Does the new boy smoke cigarettes?"
"I don't know. That gives me an idea. You had better get intimate with him and offer him cigarettes. He doesn't know Mr. Fairchild's prejudice, and may fall into the trap."
"How can I get acquainted with him?"
"I'll see to that. I shall be sending him out on an errand presently, and you can offer to go with him."
"That'll do. But you must buy me a package of cigarettes."
"Very well. My plan is to have the boy offend Mr. Fairchild's prejudices, and that may make a vacancy for you. By the way, never let him see you smoking."
"I won't, but as he is not about, I'll smoke a cigarette now."
"Better wait till after lunch."
About ten minutes after Mr. Mullins left the office, a man of forty—evidently a mechanic—entered.
"Is the bookkeeper in?" he asked.
"He's gone to lunch."
"He sent me a bill for this month's rent, which I have already paid."
"Please give me your name."
"James Long."
"And where do you live?"
The address was given—a house on East Twentieth Street.
"Haven't you the receipt?" asked Chester.
"No."
"Didn't Mr. Mullins give you one?"
"Yes; but I carelessly left it on the table. I suppose he found it and kept the money," he added, bitterly.
"But that would be a mean thing to do," said Chester, startled.
"Nothing is too mean for Mullins," said Long. "He's a hard man and a tricky one."
"He will come in soon if you can wait."
"I can't. I am at work, and this is my noon hour."
"I will tell him what you say–"
"Perhaps I may have a chance to call in this afternoon. I feel worried about this matter, for, although it is only ten dollars, that is a good deal to a man with a family, and earning only twelve dollars a week."
Presently Mr. Mullins returned.
"Has anybody been in?" he asked.
"Yes," answered Chester. "A man named James Long."
A curious expression came into the bookkeeper's eye.
"Well, did he pay his rent?"
"No; he said he had paid it already."
"Oh, he did, did he?" sneered the bookkeeper. "In that case, of course he has the receipt."
"No; he said he had left it here on the table, and did not think of it till some time afterwards."
"A likely story. He must think I am a fool. Even a boy like you can see through that."
"He seemed to me like an honest man."
"Oh, well, you are from the country, and could not be expected to know. We have some sharp swindlers in New York."
Chester was quite of that opinion, but he was beginning to think that the description would apply better to David Mullins than to James Long.
"By the way, Chester," said Mr. Mullins, with unusual blandness, "this is my cousin, Felix Gordon."
"Glad to meet you," said Felix, with an artificial smile.
Chester took the extended hand. He was not especially drawn to Felix, but felt that it behooved him to be polite.
"You boys must be somewhere near the same age," said the bookkeeper. "I will give you a chance to become acquainted. Chester, I want you to go to number four seventy-one Bleecker Street. I suppose you don't know where it is?"
"No, sir."
"Felix, go with him and show him the way."
Chester was quite amazed at this unusual and unexpected kindness on the part of a man whom he had regarded as an enemy. Was it possible that he had misjudged him?
The two boys went out together.
When they were fairly in the street, Felix produced his package of cigarettes.
"Have one?" he asked.
"No, thank you; I don't smoke."
"Don't smoke!" repeated Felix, in apparent amusement. "You don't mean that?"
"I never smoked a cigarette in my life."
"Then it's high time you learned. All boys smoke in the city."
"I don't think I should like it."
"Oh, nonsense! Just try one for my sake."
"Thank you, Felix. You are very kind, but I promised mother I wouldn't smoke."
"Your mother lives in the country, doesn't she?"
"Yes."
"Then she won't know it."
"That will make no difference. I made the promise, and I mean to keep it," said Chester, firmly.
"Oh, well, suit yourself. What a muff he is!" thought Felix. "However, he'll soon break over his virtuous resolutions. Do you know," he continued, changing the subject, "that you have got the situation I was after?"
"I think I heard Mr. Mullins say something about it. I am sorry if I have stood in your way."
"Oh, if it hadn't been you it would have been some other boy. How do you think you shall like the city?"
"Very much, I think."
"What pay do you get?"
"Five dollars a week."
"You can't live on that."
"I will try to."
"Of course, it is different with me. I should have lived at home. You'll have to run into debt."
"I will try not to."
"Where do you live?"
"I am staying with a friend—Mr. Conrad, an artist—just now, but I shall soon get a boarding place."
"I live on Eighty-sixth Street—in a flat. My father is in the custom house."
"How long has your cousin—Mr. Mullins—been in this office?"
"About five years. He's awfully smart, cousin David is. It's he that runs the business. Mr. Fairchild is no sort of a business man."
Chester wondered how, under the circumstances, Mr. Mullins should not have influence enough to secure the situation of office boy for Felix.
They soon reached Bleecker Street. Chester took notice of the way in order that he might know it again. He was sharp and observing, and meant to qualify himself for his position as soon as possible.
At five o'clock the office was vacated. Chester remained to sweep up. A piece of paper on the floor attracted his attention. He picked it up and found, to his surprise, that it was James Long's missing receipt. It was on the floor of the clothes closet, and he judged that it had dropped from the bookkeeper's pocket.
What should he do with it?
CHAPTER XIV.
THE TABLES TURNED
Under ordinary circumstances, Chester would have handed the receipt to the bookkeeper, but he was convinced that it was the purpose of Mr. Mullins to defraud the tenant out of a month's rent, and he felt that it would not be in the interest of the latter for him to put this power in the hands of the enemy. Obviously the receipt belonged to James Long, who had lost it.
Fortunately, Chester had the address of the mechanic on East Twentieth Street, and he resolved, though it would cost him quite a walk, to call and give him the paper. In twenty minutes after locking the office he found himself in front of a large tenement house, which was occupied by a great number of families. He found that Long lived on the third floor back.
He knocked at the door. It was opened to him by a woman of forty, who had a babe in her arms, while another—a little girl—was holding onto her dress.
"Does Mr. James Long live here?" asked Chester.
"Yes."
"Is he at home?"
"No, but I am expecting him home from work every minute. Will you come in, or shall I give him your message?"
"Perhaps I had better see him, if it won't inconvenience you."
"Oh, no, if you will excuse my poor rooms," said Mrs. Long, pleasantly.
"I am poor myself, and am not used to fine rooms."
"Take the rocking-chair," said Mrs. Long, offering him the best chair in the room. "If you will excuse me, I will go on preparing my husband's supper."
"Certainly. Shall I take the baby?"
"Oh, I wouldn't like to trouble you."
"I like babies."
Chester had seen that the baby's face was clean, and that it looked attractive. Babies know their friends instinctively, and this particular baby was soon in a frolic with its young guardian.
"I guess you are used to babies," said the mother, pleased.
"No, I am the only baby in my family, but I am fond of children."
I may remark here that manly boys generally do like children, and I haven't much respect for those who will tease or tyrannize over them.
In ten minutes a heavy step was heard on the stairs, and James Long entered. His face was sober, for, after his interview with Chester Rand—he had not had time for a second call—he began to fear that he should have to pay his month's rent over again, and this to him would involve a severe loss.
He looked with surprise at Chester, not immediately recognizing him.
"I come from Mr. Fairchild's office," explained Chester.
"Oh, yes; I remember seeing you there. Has the receipt been found?" he added, eagerly.
"Yes."
James Long looked very much relieved.
"I am very glad," he sighed. "Mr. Mullins wouldn't have believed me. What does he say now?"
"He doesn't know that the receipt is found."
"How is that?" asked the mechanic, puzzled.
"I found it after Mr. Mullins went away."
"Where did you find it?"
"In the clothes closet, just under where Mr. Mullins hangs his coat," added Chester, significantly.
"And you bring it to me?"
"Yes, it belongs to you. Besides, after what I heard, I didn't dare to trust it in the hands of the bookkeeper."
"I see you think the same of him as I do."
"I don't like him."
"You think he meant to cheat me?"
"It looks like it."
"I am all right now. What do you think I had better do?"
"Come round to-morrow, but don't show the receipt unless Mr. Fairchild is in the office. He is a very different man from Mr. Mullins. The bookkeeper might still play a trick upon you?"
"I believe you're right. Shall I tell him how you found and gave me back the receipt?"
"No; let Mr. Mullins puzzle over it. It is fortunate he didn't destroy the receipt, or you would have had no resource."
"You're a smart boy, and I'll take your advice. How long have you been in the office?"
"This is my first day," answered Chester, smiling.
"Well, well! I couldn't have believed it. You will make a smart business man. You've been a good friend to James Long, and he won't forget it. I say, wife, perhaps this young gentleman will stay to supper."
"Thank you," answered Chester. "I would, but I am to meet a friend uptown at six o'clock. It is so late," he added, looking at the clock on the mantel, "that I must go at once."
When Chester met his friend the artist, he told him of what had happened.
"That Mullins is evidently a rascal, and a very mean one," said Mr. Conrad. "If I were going to defraud anyone, it wouldn't be a poor mechanic."
"Mr. Mullins has already taken a dislike to me. If he should discover that I have found the receipt and given it to Mr. Long, he would hate me even worse."
"You must look out for him. He will bear watching."
"I wish he were more like Mr. Fairchild. He seems a fair, honorable man."
"He is. I don't understand why he should employ such a fellow as Mullins."
"Perhaps he hasn't found him out."
"Mullins will find it hard to explain this matter. Let me know how it comes out. I suppose Long will call at the office to-morrow?"
"Yes; I advised him to."
The next day, about twenty minutes after twelve, James Long entered the office. He looked about him anxiously, and, to his relief, saw that Mr. Fairchild was present. He went up to the table where the broker was seated.
"I came about my rent," he said.
"You can speak to Mr. Mullins," said the broker, going on with his writing.
"I would rather speak with you, sir."
"How is that?" asked Mr. Fairchild, his attention excited.
"I will tell you, sir," said the bookkeeper, with an ugly look. "This man came here yesterday and declined to pay his rent, because, he said, he had paid it already."
"And I had," said Long, quietly. "I am a mechanic on small wages, and I can't afford to pay my rent twice."
"Did you pay the rent to Mr. Mullins?"
"Yes, sir."
"When?"
"Day before yesterday."
"Then he gave you a receipt?"
"He did, sir."
"It seems to me that than settles the question. Did you give him a receipt, Mr. Mullins?"
"If I had, he could show it now. He says that he left it behind in the office here. Of course, that's too thin!"
"It is very important to take good care of your receipt, Mr. Long."
"Did you ever lose or mislay a receipt, sir?"
"Yes, I have on two or three occasions."
"So that I am not the only one to whom it has happened."
"Mr. Mullins, did Mr. Long come to the office on the day when he says he paid the rent?"
"Yes, sir."
"And he didn't pay it?"
"No, sir. He said he hadn't the money, but would bring it in a few days."
James Long listened in indignant astonishment.
"That is untrue, sir. I made no excuse, but handed Mr. Mullins the amount in full."
"There is a very extraordinary discrepancy in your statements. You say that he wrote out a receipt?"
"Yes, sir."
"It is a pity that you can't produce it."
"Yes," chimed in Mullins, with a sneer, "it is unlucky that you cannot produce it."
Then came a sensation.
"I can produce it," said Long. "The receipt has been found," and he drew out the slip of paper and passed it to Mr. Fairchild.
The face of Mullins was a study. His amazement was deep and genuine.
"It must be a forgery," he said. "Mr. Long can't possibly have a receipt."
"You are mistaken," said Mr. Fairchild. "The receipt and the signature are genuine, and it is written on one of our letter heads."
Mullins took the receipt and faltered:
"I don't understand it."
"Nor do I," said the broker, sternly. "Did you make any entry on the books?"
"I—I don't remember."
"Show me the record."
Mr. Fairchild opened the book, and saw an entry made, but afterward erased.
When the bookkeeper found the receipt on the table, a promising piece of rascality was suggested to him. He would keep the money himself, and conceal the record.
"Mr. Long," said the broker, "here is your receipt. It is clear that you have paid your rent. You will have no more trouble."
Then, as the mechanic left the office, the broker, turning to the bookkeeper, said, sternly:
"Another such transaction, Mr. Mullins, and you leave my employ."
"But, sir–" stammered Mullins.
"You may spare your words. I understand the matter. If you had not been in my employ so long, I would discharge you at the end of this week."
Mullins went back to his desk, crushed and mortified. But his brain was busy with the thought, "Where could James Long have obtained the receipt?" He remembered having put it into the pocket of his overcoat, and it had disappeared.
"I was a fool that I didn't destroy it," he reflected.
CHAPTER XV.
A PLOT AGAINST CHESTER
The more the bookkeeper thought of it, the more he was of the opinion that Chester must have had something to do with the events that led to his discovery and humiliation. Otherwise, how could James Long have recovered the receipt? He, himself, had found it and kept it in his possession. Chester must have chanced upon the receipt and carried it to Long.
Though well convinced of it, he wished to find out positively. Accordingly, he took his cousin Felix into his confidence as far as was necessary, and sent him to the room of the mechanic to find out whether Chester had been there.
It was the middle of the forenoon when Felix knocked at the door of James Long's humble home.
Mrs. Long, with the baby in her arms, answered the knock.
"Is this Mrs. Long?" asked Felix.
"Yes, sir."
"I am the friend of Chester Rand."
"I don't think I know Mr. Rand," said Mrs. Long, who had not heard Chester's name.
"The boy from Mr. Fairchild's office. He called here, I believe, one day last week."
"Oh, yes and a good friend he was to me and mine."
"In what way?" asked Felix, his face lighting with satisfaction at the discovery he had made.
"He brought my husband the receipt he had lost. Didn't he tell you?"
"Oh, yes. I wasn't thinking of that. He asked me to inquire if he left his gloves here?"
"I haven't found any. I should have seen them if he left them here."
"All right. I will tell him. He thought he might have left them. Good morning, ma'am."
And Felix hurried downstairs. He was not partial to poor people or tenement houses, and he was glad to get away.
He reached the office in time to go out to lunch with the bookkeeper.
"Well?" asked Mullins, eagerly. "Did you go to Long's?"
"Yes."
"What did you find out?"
"I found out that your office boy had been there and carried them the receipt."
"The young—viper! So he is trying to undermine me in the office. Well, he'll live to regret it," and the bookkeeper shook his head vigorously.
"I'd get even with him if I were you, Cousin David."
"Trust me for that! I generally pay off all debts of that kind."
"How will you do it?" asked Felix, curiously.
"I don't know yet. Probably I'll get him into some bad scrape that will secure his discharge."
"And then you'll get me into the place?"
"I am afraid I can't. I am not on good terms with Mr. Fairchild, and my recommendation won't do you much good, even if I do manage to get rid of Chester."
"Then I don't see how I am going to be benefited by working for you," said Felix, dissatisfied.
"I'll pay you in some way. To begin with, here's a dollar. This is for your errand of this morning."
"Thank you, Cousin David," said Felix, pocketing the bill with an air of satisfaction. "I think I'll go to Daly's Theater to-night. Father doesn't give me much spending money—only twenty-five cents a week, and what's a fellow to do with such a beggarly sum as that?"
"It is more than I had at your age."
"The world has progressed since then. A boy needs more pocket money now than he did fifteen years ago. How soon shall you try to get even with that boy?"
"I think it will be prudent to wait a while. Mr. Fairchild may suspect something if I move too soon. The boy has been with us less than a week."
"He has been with you long enough to do some harm."
"That's true," said Mullins, with an ugly look.
"Does he seem to suit Mr. Fairchild?"
"Yes; he appears to be intelligent, and he attends to his duties—worse luck!—but he's a thorn in my side, a thorn in my side! I'd give twenty-five dollars if he was out of the office."
"Do you want me to break off acquaintance with him?"
"No; keep on good terms with him. Let him think you are his intimate friend. It will give me a chance to plot against him—through you."
CHAPTER XVI.
PROF. HAZLITT AT HOME
Chester did not forget his engagement to call upon Prof. Hazlitt on Wednesday evening.
He was shown at once into the professor's study. It was a large room, the sides lined with bookcases crowded with volumes. There seemed to be more books than Chester had ever seen before.
In the center of the room was a study table, covered with books, open as if in use. On one side was a desk, at which Prof. Hazlitt himself was seated.
"Good-evening, my young friend," he said, cordially, as Chester entered the room. "You did not forget your appointment."
"No, sir. I was not likely to forget such an engagement."
"Have you grown to feel at home in the city?"
"Not entirely, sir, but I am getting a little used to it."
"I think you mentioned that you were going into a real estate office?"
"Yes, sir. I have commenced my duties there."
"I hope you find them agreeable."
"I might, sir, but that the bookkeeper seems to have taken a dislike to me."
"I suspect that you would like better to devote yourself to art work."
"I think I should, sir, but Mr. Conrad thinks it better that I should only devote my leisure to drawing."
"No doubt his advice is wise, for the present, at least. Now, suppose we come to business. I believe I told you I am writing a book on ethnology."
"Yes, sir."
"I find a good deal of help in rare volumes which I consult at the Astor Library. These I cannot borrow, but I have the use of anything I find suited to my needs in the library of Columbia College. Then I import a good many books. I shall spare no pains to make my own work valuable and comprehensive. Of course, I shall feel at liberty to copy and use any illustrations I find in foreign publications. It is here that you can help me."
"Yes, sir."
"Here, for instance," and the professor opened a French book, "are some sketches illustrating the dress and appearance of the natives of Madagascar. Do you think you can copy them?"
"I have no doubt of it, sir," he answered.
"Sit down in that chair and try. You will find pencils and drawing paper before you. I will mention one or two particulars in which I want you to deviate from the original."
Chester sat down and was soon deep in his task. He felt that it was important for him to do his best. He could understand that, though the professor was a kind-hearted man, he would be a strict critic.
He therefore worked slowly and carefully, and it was nearly an hour before he raised his head and said:
"I have finished."
"Show the sketch to me," said the professor.
Chester handed it to him.
He examined it with critical attention. Gradually his face lighted up with pleasure.
"Admirably done!" he exclaimed. "You have carried out my wishes."
"Then you are satisfied, sir?"
"Entirely."
"I am very glad," said Chester, with an air of relief.
He felt now he could do all that was required of him, and, as the contract would pay him two hundred dollars, this success to-night was an important one.
"I won't ask you to do any more this evening, but I will give you some work to do at home. I believe I agreed to pay you two dollars for each sketch?"
"Yes, sir."
"Probably you are not over well provided with money, and I will pay you as you go on. Or, rather, I will give you ten dollars as an advance for future work."
"Thank you, sir. You are very kind."
"Only considerate. I have seen the time when a ten-dollar-bill would have been welcome to me. Now, thanks to a wealthy relative, who left me a fortune, I am amply provided for."
At this moment the study door opened and a bright-looking boy of about fifteen entered.
"May I come in, uncle?" he asked, with a smile.
"Yes. Chester, this is my nephew, Arthur Burks. Arthur, this is Chester Rand, a young artist, who is assisting me."
Arthur came forward and gave Chester his hand cordially.
"You ought to wear spectacles," he said, "like uncle Edgar. You don't look dignified enough to be his assistant."
"That may come in time," said Chester, with a smile.
"Arthur, I am done with Chester for this evening," said the professor. "You may carry him off and entertain him. You may bring me the other two sketches whenever you are ready."
"Come up to my den," said Arthur. "I have the front room on the third floor."
As they went upstairs, a prolonged, melancholy shriek rang through the house.
Chester stopped short in dismay, and an expression of pain succeeded the gay look on Arthur's face.
