Alger Horatio Jr.
From Farm to Fortune; or, Nat Nason's Strange Experience
CHAPTER XIX
NAT BECOMES A PRIVATE CLERK
Abner Balberry and his bride remained in New York four days longer, and during that time Nat did all in his power to make their visit a pleasant one. He received Mr. Garwell's permission to remain away from work one day, and took his uncle and aunt to Central Park, and to the Brooklyn Bridge, and the Statue of Liberty. They were greatly pleased, and were frank enough to tell Nat so.
"I guess you are more cut out for the city than for the farm," said Abner to his nephew. "I hope you do well. You must write to us often, an' some day you must pay us a visit."
"I certainly will do that, Uncle Abner," said Nat, and then, to please the bride, he purchased for her a souvenir book, containing many illustrations of the metropolis. This book Mrs. Balberry prized highly, and from that moment she began to like Nat.
"He ain't half so bad as I was led to expect," she said, on the way home. "He seems to know what he is doing."
"He certainly is gettin' along," responded Abner. "Shouldn't wonder but what he'll be a regular business man some day."
"Do you think it would pay to send Fred down to the city?"
"No, he better stay on the farm. Fred ain't got the way about him thet Nat's got."
"He's just as smart," said the youth's mother, quickly.
"Maybe, but he ain't got the knack o' it."
"He would do just as well if he had the chance," continued Mrs. Balberry. As was perhaps natural she thought her own son as good as any boy.
On the day after Nat's uncle left New York John Garwell called the boy into his private office.
"Did you arrange matters with Mr. Balberry?" he asked, pleasantly.
"Yes, sir. He is going to leave me alone after this," and our hero smiled.
"I am glad to hear it, Nat. Then there is nothing in the way of your continuing here."
"No, sir."
"In that case I want to ask you a question. How would you like to take up stenography and typewriting?"
"I'd like it first-rate, if I thought I could do anything with them after I had learned them."
"I would like to have a private secretary who understood stenography, and the use of the typewriter."
"Oh, Mr. Garwell, do you think I would do?"
"Perhaps. You are bright, and I feel that I can trust you."
"If you want me to, I'll go at stenography and typewriting at once."
"You'll have to have some time for it."
"I can go at night. There are several evening schools I know of."
"Very well, then, you may start in at once, and I will pay your tuition fees."
"I can pay those out of my savings."
"No, bring the bills to me, Nat. And after this week your duties will be wholly as my private clerk," added John Garwell.
This made quite a change for our hero. But it was an agreeable one, and he went at his new duties with vigor. A good school was selected, which Nat attended five nights in the week.
"This kind of knocks me out," said Dick, when our hero told him of the change.
"No, it don't," said Nat, quickly. "I've made arrangements for you, Dick."
"Me? How?"
"You are to come three nights a week, for lessons in arithmetic and penmanship."
"Do they give the lessons free?"
"No, I am going to settle that."
"How much will you pay?"
"Three dollars a month."
"I ought to pay that."
"No, I am going to do it," said Nat, firmly, and he kept his word.
As John Garwell's private clerk, Nat received ten dollars per week, and as he had no school bills to pay for himself he found it easy to pay for Dick. The newsboy was making rapid progress, and this not only pleased his mother, but also the man who had promised to give Dick a position in his stationery store.
"I'm going to have a job in the store next month," said the newsboy one day. "Mr. Andrews' clerk is going to leave, and I am to take his place."
"And how much will Mr. Andrews give you?" asked Mrs. Talcott.
"Six dollars a week to start on, and he says he will give me eight dollars as soon as I can help on the books."
"I am glad to hear it, Dick."
"I guess I've got Nat to thank for the job," said the newsboy. "I had to do some writing for Mr. Andrews, and he said the writing was all right."
"Yes, you can certainly thank Nat," said Mrs. Talcott.
The days passed swiftly for Nat. He made good progress at the evening school, and Mr. Garwell was correspondingly pleased. Every day the real estate broker trusted Nat more and more, until the lad occupied a truly responsible position.
One day Nat was sent to Brooklyn, to have a certain document signed by a lady of wealth.
"You must get Mrs. Parloe's signature to this, Nat," said his employer, "and get somebody to witness the signature, and sign here," he added.
"Yes, sir."
"The paper is valuable, and I don't want you to let it go out of your sight," went on John Garwell.
"I'll take care to keep my eye on it," answered Nat.
He was soon on his way, and after crossing the Brooklyn Bridge, took a street car to the address given him. It was a fine brownstone house, with elegant lace curtains at the windows.
"Does Mrs. Parloe live here?" he asked of the girl who came to the door.
"Yes, sir."
"I would like to see her on business," and Nat handed out a card on which was printed:
John Wilbur Garwell,
Real Estate Broker.
Represented by
NATHANIEL M. NASON.
The girl told Nat to take a seat, and went off with the card. He waited for fully five minutes, during which he heard a low murmur of voices in a back room. Then a tall, dark-eyed man came forward.
"What do you wish of Mrs. Parloe?" he questioned, abruptly.
"Excuse me, but my business is with the lady," answered Nat, politely. He had been told to transact business with Mrs. Parloe and with nobody else.
"Oh! I suppose you came about that property," went on the dark-eyed man, surlily. "If you did, let me tell you, it won't do any good."
To this our hero made no reply.
"Mrs. Parloe will see you upstairs," said the girl, returning, and showed Nat the way up. The dark-eyed man started to follow, but the girl called him back.
"Mrs. Parloe wished you to remain below, Mr. Cameron," she said.
At this the man uttered something under his breath which Nat could not catch. Evidently, he was very angry, and he went into a side room, slamming the door after him.
Nat found Mrs. Parloe sitting in an easy chair by a front window. She was something of an invalid and rather old.
"I am glad to see you, Mr. Nason," said she. "Take a seat."
"Thank you," returned Nat. "Here is a note for you from Mr. Garwell," and he passed it over.
The old lady read the communication carefully, nodding to herself as she did so. Then she turned again to our hero.
"Have you the document with you?"
"Yes, ma'am," and Nat brought it forth. "You will have to have somebody as a witness. Can I call somebody for you?"
The old lady mused for a moment.
"I don't believe Rufus will do it," she said, half aloud.
"Do you mean the gentleman I met downstairs?"
"Yes, my nephew, Rufus Cameron. He does not wish me to transact business with Mr. Garwell. You may call John, my hired man. He is quite intelligent."
"Where will I find him?"
"You will—but never mind, Mary can call him."
Mrs. Parloe touched a bell, and soon Mary appeared, and went off to find the hired man. In the meantime, Nat fixed a reading stand so it could be used as a writing table, and brought out a stylographic pen his employer had given him.
Soon the hired man appeared. He was fairly well educated, and showed it in his face and manner.
"I am going to sign this document, John," said the old lady. "I wish you to witness my signature."
"Yes, ma'am."
Not without something of an effort, Mrs. Parloe affixed her signature to the paper. Then Nat handed the document to John, and told him where to place his own name in full, and also his address. In a minute the matter was concluded, and Mrs. Parloe told the hired man to go, and he did so.
"I trust Mr. Garwell has no further difficulty in this matter," said the old lady, as Nat stowed the document away in his pocket.
"He told me to say that he is going to put it through just as soon as he can," answered Nat. "I don't know anything more about it than that."
"Are you one of his clerks?"
"Yes, ma'am—his private clerk."
"You are rather young for such a position."
"I suppose I am, but Mr. Garwell seems to like me, and I am doing what I can to please him."
"Mr. Garwell is a good man," said the old lady, and there the interview came to an end, and Nat left the room. He was just going to leave the house when the dark-eyed man stepped into the lower hallway, and caught him by the arm.
CHAPTER XX
RUFUS CAMERON'S BOLD MOVE
"What do you want?" demanded our hero. He did not like the idea of being detained, now that his business was concluded.
"I want to talk to you a minute," said the man. "Come into the parlor."
"I am in something of a hurry, Mr.–"
"My name is Rufus Cameron. Mrs. Parloe is my aunt. I must talk to you. Come in."
Rufus Cameron caught a firm hold of our hero and almost forced him into the parlor. Then he shut the door tightly and stood in front of it.
"What do you want?" demanded Nat. He did not like the looks of Rufus Cameron. The fellow's face was dissipated.
"You got my aunt to sign a certain document, didn't you?"
"What if I did?"
"I want to see that paper."
"If you do, you'll have to see my employer about it."
"You've got the paper right here. Why can't you show it to me?"
"Because I have no authority for so doing," answered our hero, firmly.
"Humph! It won't hurt you to let me look over the paper," growled Rufus Cameron.
"I have my orders."
"Did John Garwell tell you not to show me the paper?"
"He told me to have it signed, and to bring it right back."
"Well, I want to see it, and I'm going to do it before you leave this house."
"Are you going to take the paper away from me!" cried Nat, in alarm.
"I only want to look at it. As soon as I've read it, I'll give it back to you."
"I can't allow the paper to go out of my possession, Mr. Cameron."
"Mrs. Parloe isn't entirely responsible for what she does. I must see to it that everything is all right."
"Well, you had better call on Mr. Garwell."
"No, I must see the document while you have it here. Come! hand it over."
"I will not."
Nat had scarcely spoken when Rufus Cameron caught him roughly by the shoulder.
"Look here, boy, I am not a man to be trifled with!" he whispered, fiercely. "Let me see the paper, and it will be all right. But if you won't, I'll make a whole lot of trouble for you."
"Let go of me!" and Nat tried to pull himself away.
"You stole this ring while you were upstairs," said Rufus Cameron, quickly, and, putting his hand in Nat's side pocket, he brought it out again with a diamond ring.
"I—I never saw that ring before," gasped Nat.
"You stole it, I say, and unless you behave yourself, I'll have you arrested," went on Rufus Cameron, coldly.
Nat was dumfounded, but like a flash he saw through the trick that the man wanted to play on him.
"You can't fool me, Mr. Rufus Cameron," said he, sharply. "Let me go, or I'll have you hauled up in court for this. Your dirty trick won't work with me."
Rufus Cameron fell back, crestfallen. He had not anticipated such bravery on our hero's part. He was a coward at heart, and too much liquor had somewhat muddled his brain.
"Then you won't show me the document?" he muttered.
"No."
As Nat uttered the word, Rufus Cameron picked up a sea shell lying on a mantelshelf, and swung it behind his head.
"If you don't let me see that–" he began.
Nat rushed at him, and pushed him to one side. Then our hero made for the door. He was just opening it when the seashell was sent whizzing forward. It hit Nat on the head, and the boy dropped unconscious across an easy chair.
For the instant Rufus Cameron was startled. Then rushing to the door, he locked it, and also locked some folding doors leading to a rear apartment.
"I hope I didn't hurt him much," he muttered. "What a young fool he was not to let me see the paper."
He propped Nat up in the easy chair, and placed his hand in the boy's inside pocket. Soon he had the document in his possession, and was looking over it rapidly.
"Just as I thought. I'm glad I got it. Now, we'll see if Shanley and I can't outwit Mr. John Garwell."
Nat was already coming to his senses, and Rufus Cameron lost no time in hurrying to the library of the house. Here he obtained an old document of no consequence, but which still bore his aunt's signature. Rushing back, he placed this in the envelope which had held the other paper of importance.
Nat was just returning to his senses when he found himself being taken out of the house by Rufus Cameron. The man supported him as far as the corner and there placed him on a stone step leading to a church.
"Wha—what did you hit me for?" stammered our hero, feebly.
"I didn't mean to do that; really I didn't," said Rufus Cameron, smoothly. "The shell slipped. I am very sorry—very sorry, indeed."
"It was a mean thing to do."
"It was an accident, I give you my word on it."
Nat felt in his pocket to learn if the document was still there.
"Did you look at that paper?" he questioned.
"No, I didn't. On second thought I have concluded to let my aunt do just as she pleases in this matter."
Nat felt in no condition to argue. He took out the document, glanced at it, and shoved it back into the envelope and then in his pocket.
"I'm sorry this happened. I was excited for the minute. Come and have a drink with me. It will do you good," went on Rufus Cameron.
"I don't drink."
"Shall I show you to the car then?"
"Yes."
When Nat got up the rascal supported him, and thus they made their way to the car line running to the Bridge. Here, our hero boarded a car, and Rufus Cameron watched him ride out of sight.
"That was easy after all," muttered Rufus Cameron to himself. "I only hope it don't make too much trouble in the future. I'll have to let Shanley have this document without delay, and I'd better get out of sight until the affair blows over."
Making his way to a neighboring café, Rufus Cameron treated himself to a drink of strong liquor and a black-looking cigar. Then he returned to his aunt's home. He lived with her, and was doing his best to get certain of her properties away from her.
"Aunt Jane, what did that young man want?" he asked, as he entered her room.
"He came to see me on private business, Rufus," was the quiet answer. Mrs. Parloe did not fancy her nephew's habits, and had often warned him that he must reform.
"Was there anything I could do for you?"
"No, Rufus."
"Do you know, Aunt Jane, I've been thinking of taking a trip to the West," he went on, after a pause.
"So you said before."
"I'd go in a minute if I had the money."
"How much do you want?"
"Two or three hundred dollars at least."
"Is the money gone that I let you have last month?"
"Yes, I had to pay some back bills with that."
"You are very extravagant, Rufus."
"Oh, a young man must spend something."
"But not as much as you spend."
"I don't spend any more than the rest of the fellows in my set. I have got to keep up appearances, you know."
"Your set is altogether too fast a one to suit me."
"Will you let me have the money?"
"How long do you expect to be gone?"
"That depends upon what you will give me. If you'll let me have five hundred dollars, I'll make a trip of two or three months."
Mrs. Parloe thought for a moment, and at last consented to give her nephew the five hundred. She had her check book handy, and soon the check was passed over to the nephew.
"When shall you start?" she asked.
"I don't know. I've a good notion to start to-night. But if you want me to do anything for you before I go–"
"There is nothing, Rufus. Only, if you want to please me, don't get into any bad habits while you are gone."
"Oh, I'm going to turn over a new leaf when I leave Brooklyn," said the hypocrite. "Then, I can leave to-night?"
"Yes."
"In that case, I'll pack my trunk at once," said Rufus Cameron; and a little later he did so. Then he had the trunk taken away, bid his aunt good-by, and was off.
"That was easy," he said to himself, when away from the house. "Now to see Shanley and to arrange for keeping out of sight, in case John Garwell kicks up a fuss."
CHAPTER XXI
A MISSING DOCUMENT OF VALUE
As soon as Nat returned to the office he sought out Mr. Garwell, and handed him the document in the envelope.
"Did you have any trouble getting Mrs. Parloe's signature?" asked the real estate broker.
"I had no trouble getting the signature, but I had trouble getting away from the house," answered Nat.
"Trouble getting away? What do you mean?"
"I was stopped by her nephew, a man named Rufus Cameron. He handled me rather roughly."
"Did he try to get the document away from you?" And now John Garwell was all attention.
"He hauled me in the parlor, and demanded that I let him look at the paper. I refused, and then he threatened me."
"And what happened after that?"
"He put his hand in my pocket and brought out a diamond ring. He said I had stolen it."
"Of course you hadn't, Nat?"
"I had never seen the ring before. But that wasn't the worst of it. He picked up a sea shell and hit me with it and knocked me senseless."
After that our hero told his story in detail, relating also what Rufus Cameron had said on assisting him to the street car. The real estate broker listened with keen interest.
"That man is a scoundrel!" he exclaimed, when Nat had concluded his story. "I pity Mrs. Parloe. He is doing his best to get all her money from her."
"It was a mean trick to say I took the ring," declared Nat.
"He did that thinking to get you in his power, my boy. Are you sure he didn't look at the document?"
"I can't say what he did while I was senseless, Mr. Garwell."
"I'll take a look at the paper and see if he made any alterations in the text."
John Garwell looked at the document and began to read it.
"Why, this is not the paper I gave you, Nat," he ejaculated.
"Not the same?"
"No. It's some old thing that I know nothing about."
"If that's the case, Mr. Cameron substituted this paper for the real one!" exclaimed our hero. "He could easily have done that during the time I was knocked out."
"I'll see about this without delay," said John Garwell, decisively. "I will show that fellow that he can't carry matters with quite such a high hand."
"What can he do with that paper, Mr. Garwell?"
"He can cause me a great deal of trouble. The paper refers to a piece of property in which Mrs. Parloe held an interest. I have been trying to get a free and clear title to the land for a client of mine, and another real estate dealer named Andrew Shanley has been trying to get the land for another party. It is a mixed-up affair, but I hoped the signing of that paper would help to straighten out matters."
The real estate broker was as good as his word, but he was exceedingly busy, and it was not until two in the afternoon that he could get away. Then he went to Brooklyn, taking Nat with him.
"I would like to see Mr. Cameron," said he to the girl at Mrs. Parloe's home.
"Mr. Cameron has gone away, sir," was the unexpected answer.
"Do you know when he will be back?"
"I'll ask Mrs. Parloe," said the girl.
She went upstairs, leaving them in the parlor below. Soon she came back.
"He has gone out west, Mrs. Parloe says, and she doesn't expect him back for two or three months."
"Gone west," cried Nat. "When did he go?"
"He went away about noon."
"Did he take any baggage?" asked John Garwell.
"Yes, sir, a dress-suit case, and he sent an expressman around for his trunk, too."
"Then I won't bother you any more," said the real estate broker, and left the house, followed by Nat.
"Don't you want to ask Mrs. Parloe about this?" queried our hero.
"It would be useless to do so, Nat. It would only upset the old lady."
"She might be able to tell us just where her nephew had gone to?"
"It is not likely. He intends to keep out of the way, that is certain."
"Maybe he didn't go west at all!" said our hero, suddenly.
"Such a thing is possible."
"Did you say he was in league with this other real estate broker?"
"I don't know about that, although I know he and this Shanley are friends."
"I wonder if it wouldn't be a good idea for me to watch around this Shanley's office for him?"
"Ha! That is an idea." John Garwell smiled broadly. "Nat, you are growing clever."
"Even if I couldn't get the paper, I could prove that he had not gone west, as he told his aunt, and I could follow him, and find out where he was stopping."
"Well, you can do the watching if you wish. I will give you Andrew V. Shanley's address. His place of business is between here and the Bridge."
"Shall I go there at once?"
"If you wish."
The address was written on a slip of paper, and a little later Nat and his employer separated. John Garwell gazed after our hero curiously.
"He is improving wonderfully," he mused. "He isn't half as green as when I first met him."
Nat had been told what car to take, and ten minutes sufficed to bring him to the block upon which Andrew Shanley's office was located, on the third floor of a large office building. He went upstairs, and managed to get a peep into the office, and found Rufus Cameron was not there.
"Of course he may have been here already," he told himself. "But I've got to take my chances about that. I'll stay here until the place shuts up."
Going below again, he took a station across the street and began to wait patiently for the appearance of Rufus Cameron.
As luck would have it, he had waited less than half an hour when he saw Mrs. Parloe's nephew step from a car at the corner, and approach the office building.
"Mr. Cameron, I want to see you!" he exclaimed, coming forward, and confronting the man.
Rufus Cameron had not expected to meet Nat again so soon, and for the moment he was dumfounded.
"Wha—what do you want?" he stammered, halting.
"You know well enough what I want," answered our hero, sharply. "I want that document you stole from me."
"Stole from you!"
"That is what I said, Rufus Cameron."
"I—I don't know what you are talking about."
"You do know, and unless you give up the paper I am going to have you arrested right now."
At these words Rufus Cameron turned pale. As said before, he was a good deal of a coward, and being caught so unexpectedly threw him somewhat from his mental balance.
"You—you can't have me arrested!"
"Yes, I can."
"How did you come to look for me here?"
"Mr. Garwell sent me here. He is up to your tricks."
"Did he tell you to—to have me arrested?"
"Never mind what he told me. I want that paper, and I want it right now."
"I—I haven't got any paper. I—I don't know what you are talking about."
"Yes, you have got that paper. You took it from me after you knocked me down in your aunt's parlor. Isn't that so?"
As Nat finished he nodded, as if talking to somebody behind Rufus Cameron. At once the guilty fellow turned his head to learn who was listening to the conversation. As he did this, Nat thrust his hand in the rascal's breast pocket, and brought forth the document which had caused all the trouble.
