Alger Horatio Jr.
Making His Mark
CHAPTER XXXII
IMPRISONED
Gerald lost no time in writing a letter to Thomas Nixon, to let him know of his arrival in Ransom and his adventures up to date. He finished by advising Mr. Nixon not to sell his share in the mine for less than forty thousand dollars.
"Indeed," he added, "I think I can find you a purchaser at that price."
He did not make himself known to Nelson Hawk, but remained at the hotel waiting for further developments.
He did not observe that one of the miners who hung about the hotel surveyed him curiously, nor had he any idea that he was recognized. But this miner—Jack Manton—remembered to have seen him at Campville, and knew his connection with old Tom Nixon, whose interest in the mine was well known. Desiring to ingratiate himself with the superintendent, he joined him in the street as he was leaving the mine, and said, touching his hat:
"Mr. Hawk, may I have a few words with you?"
"Go on," said Hawk, impatiently, "but my time is valuable."
"It will be worth your while to hear me. Have you seen a boy about the hotel?"
"Yes; what of it?"
"Do you know who he is?"
"No. Is he a person of any importance?"
"I should say so. He is secretary and companion—whatever you may choose to call it—to old Tom Nixon."
Nelson Hawk uttered an exclamation of dismay.
"Are you sure of that?" he asked hurriedly.
"Certainly I am."
"How do you know?"
"I saw him at Campville three weeks ago and I know he lives with old Tom."
Straightway it flashed upon the superintendent's mind that he had discussed the condition of the mine with Matthew Grote in hearing of this boy. He must, he felt convinced, have spoken of its large output, having no idea that this youth was an agent of his partner. If this were the case all his plans were upset. Gerald would of course communicate what he had heard to the old man.
What was to be done?
He must question Gerald and find out how much he knew, and whether he had written to Mr. Nixon.
So when he next saw Gerald in the hotel he sat down beside him.
"Where do you come from, young man? Haven't I seen you in Campville?"
"I don't know. Have you been there recently?"
"No, but one of my men has. Do you know old Tom Nixon?"
"Yes, sir."
"Did he send you here?"
"Yes, sir."
Nelson Hawk breathed hard. All his fears were realized.
"Have you any communication for me? I wrote recently to Mr. Nixon, offering him a large sum for his interest in the mine. Do you think he will accept?"
"I know he will not."
"Why?"
"Because it is worth much more than you offered."
"Shall you advise him to refuse my offer?"
"Yes, sir."
"That is frank. I suppose you heard me say to Mr. Grote that the output had increased?"
"Yes, sir."
"And naturally you concluded that it is worth more than I offered. But there is another side to the question—expenses have increased, too. It is harder to work. Would you like to visit the mine and see for yourself?"
"Yes, sir," said Gerald, promptly.
Hawk's eyes lighted up with satisfaction.
"Very well," he said; "we will go at once."
They proceeded to the mine, half a mile away, and Hawk signaled for the elevator. It was a large cask, operated by a windlass.
"Get in," he said.
They did so, and began slowly to descend. The mine was about three hundred feet deep. Touching bottom, they left the tub, and Hawk began to show Gerald about, talking in a desultory way. At length they reached a side cavern, and Hawk led the way in. Then his manner changed.
"Boy," he said, "are you authorized to sell Mr. Nixon's interest in the mine?"
"Yes, sir."
"I will give twenty thousand dollars."
"I can't take it."
"Be careful! You may come to harm if you don't?"
"What do you mean?" demanded Gerald, startled.
"I mean that I will keep you confined in this room until you agree to the bargain!"
Gerald turned pale. He saw that he was in a trap.
"I can't betray Mr. Nixon's interests."
Hawk opened the door and went out, thrusting Gerald back.
"I will come here to-morrow morning," he said. "By that time you may have come to your senses."
"Let me out!" exclaimed Gerald, vehemently.
"So I will, if you agree to my terms."
In a moment the door was locked, and Gerald found himself immured in a cavern three hundred feet below the surface of the earth.
CHAPTER XXXIII
RESCUED
It seemed to Gerald like a terrible dream, as he tried with his unpractised eyes to peer through the blackness. But it was completely dark. It seemed to be an excavation which had been abandoned. It was at some distance from that part of the mine in which active operations were going on. How long he would be kept here he could not conjecture. Whether, indeed, the superintendent would dare to keep him in captivity, perhaps even let him starve to death, he could not tell. He felt it hard to realize the position he was in.
Leaving him to his troubled thoughts, we will go back to the hotel where Joshua Burdoch and he were guests.
When Gerald left the house with the superintendent, Burdoch was temporarily absent. Twenty minutes later he returned, and looked about for Gerald. Not seeing him he concluded that he had gone out for a walk. But an hour passed, and still Gerald was absent. He did not feel anxious about him, but he and Gerald were such constant companions that he felt lonesome and uneasy without him.
He walked up to the desk of the hotel and asked the landlord: "Have you seen anything of the boy?"
"Yes, he was here rather more than an hour ago."
"Did he go out?"
"Yes; he went out with Mr. Hawk."
"The superintendent of the mine?"
"Yes."
This surprised Mr. Burdoch. For, so far as he knew, the two had never held any communication.
"Did they appear to be talking together?" he asked.
"Yes."
"Where do you think they went?"
"I believe Hawk proposed that the boy should go with him to the mine."
"I wonder what that means?" thought Burdoch, puzzled.
He took his hat and walked out in the direction of the mine.
Near by he saw Nelson Hawk conversing with one of the miners.
"Mr. Hawk," he said, walking up to the superintendent, "where is Gerald Lane?"
Nelson Hawk shrugged his shoulders.
"I don't know," he answered.
"Lockard told me he left the hotel in your company."
"Yes, we walked a little way together."
"And then you separated?"
"Yes."
"Did he go back?"
"I presume so."
"He did not go down into the mine?"
"No. Why should he?"
"I don't know. I merely asked."
"I am busy. I can't talk with you any more."
Joshua Burdoch, more puzzled than ever, walked slowly away. A hundred yards distant he met a man he knew, and asked if he had seen anything of Gerald.
"An hour or two ago I saw him with Mr. Hawk."
"Where were they?"
"Just going down into the mine."
"I'll warrant, there's some mischief here!" exclaimed Burdoch. "Hawk has been deceiving me."
"You didn't see the two come up again?"
"No; but I saw Hawk coming out of the mine alone."
This confirmed the suspicion of Burdoch, and he guessed the truth.
"McKee," he said, "I scent trouble. That man has left the boy in the mine, and I propose to get him out. Are you with me?"
"Yes; I hate Hawk, and I will help you cheerfully."
"Then come back with me."
Burdoch strode back and walked up to the superintendent.
"Mr. Hawk," he said, "you have shut up the boy in the mine. Unless you release him I will shoot you!"
Hawk turned pale, but tried to bluster.
"You are mistaken," he said. "At any rate, I won't be talked to in this style."
"You can't help yourself."
"What motive could I have for confining the boy?"
"You have probably found out that he represents your partner, old Tom Nixon, and that he has come here to find out the real state of the mine."
"You astonish me, and I don't believe you. Nixon wouldn't send a kid like that."
"We won't argue the point. That boy must be released!"
"He is not in the mine."
"I intend to go down and see."
"Oh, very well; you can go!"
"You must go with us."
"I have not time."
In reply, Burdoch put a pistol to the side of his head.
"Be careful," said the affrighted superintendent, "it might go off!"
"Will you go down?"
"Yes."
They started, Burdoch watching Hawk closely, ready at the slightest sign of treachery to shoot him.
But Hawk had made up his mind to deceive him if he could. He did not dare to resort to violence in the case of a man so strong and determined as Joshua Burdoch. They descended to the bottom of the mine, and the party got out.
"Now," said Hawk, waving his hand, "you are at liberty to search for yourself, and if you can find the boy, do so!"
Burdoch and his friend went about the mine, peering everywhere, but no trace of Gerald's presence could be found.
Burdoch became uneasy and discouraged. He had no confidence in the superintendent. He felt convinced that he was being deceived, but how could he prove it?
"Well," said Hawk, who had not accompanied them, "have you found him?"
There was a triumphant smile on his face, which excited Burdoch's suspicions.
"Not yet," he answered, briefly.
"Oh, well, you can continue your search," and he walked away.
"McKee," said Burdoch, abruptly, "have you ever been in this mine before?"
"Yes; two years ago I was employed here for a few weeks."
"Is there any place—any secret place—besides those that we have visited where the boy could be confined?"
"Yes," answered McKee, with a sudden thought, "there is a vault not now used, rather apart from the rest of the mine, where he might be concealed."
"Can you guide me there?" asked Burdoch, eagerly.
"Yes, I think so."
"Then do so in mercy's name!"
McKee's memory served him well. He led the way to the side excavation. It was shut off from the rest of the mine by a wooden door. That door was locked.
"This is the place," said Burdoch. "Now to find out if Gerald is here!"
He struck with his heavy jack-knife on the door, and then waited.
There was an answering knock.
"That is he!" he exclaimed.
He bent down and called through the keyhole:
"Are you inside, Gerald?"
There was a faint sound. He could not hear the words, but he was convinced that it was Gerald's voice.
Now to open the door. It was heavy and the lock was strong. There seemed no way except to use the key. That key undoubtedly the superintendent had. Just then Nelson Hawk came in sight. He had been afraid the secret room would be found.
"Well, gentlemen," he said, uneasily, "you seem to have gone astray. What brought you here?"
"Give me the key of that door!" said Burdoch, sternly.
"I have no key."
"Give me that key!"
"I tell you I have none," and the superintendent started to go away.
Instantly Burdoch had him by the throat.
"Now search his pockets, McKee."
"You will repent this outrage," said Nelson Hawk, in a choking voice.
"I will risk that."
From his pockets a bunch of keys was taken by McKee, and one of them was found to fit the door.
Burdoch inserted it in the lock, and in a moment the door swung back, revealing Gerald, who gladly stepped outside.
"You scoundrel!" said Burdoch, shaking his fist in the superintendent's face. "Now tell your story, Gerald."
Gerald did so.
"What have you to say for yourself, Hawk?" demanded Burdoch.
"It must have been a mistake," whined the superintendent.
"You will hear from us again. Now, Gerald, we will go out."
"Now," said Burdoch, "do you know what I have decided to do?"
"No."
"I shall go back with you to Campville, make Mr. Nixon an offer for his share in the mine, come back and force Hawk out. I mean to control it and manage it myself. You shall introduce me to Tom Nixon."
"I will with pleasure."
CHAPTER XXXIV
A DEED OF GIFT
Within two weeks Joshua Burdoch had bought Mr. Nixon's share of the mine at Ransom for forty thousand dollars. Mr. Hawk's share he secured for thirty thousand. He then made a formal proposal to Gerald to go to work for him as assistant manager. But to this Mr. Nixon demurred.
"I can't spare Gerald, Mr. Burdoch," he said.
"But, Mr. Nixon, think of the boy's interests. I am willing to pay him a salary of a hundred dollars a month."
"And I," said the old man, "will give him outright ten thousand dollars—one-fourth of the sum you have paid me for my interest in the mine."
"Give me your hand, Mr. Nixon," said Burdoch, "I can't go ahead of that. He is a good boy, and he deserves his good fortune."
Gerald was overwhelmed by his liberality.
"How can I thank you, Mr. Nixon," he said, "for your generosity?"
"It isn't generosity. It's only justice. But for you I doubt if I should be living to-day. You have taught me how to live. And now let me tell you something. I have sent on to Mr. Nugent the amount I took from his firm many years ago. He refused to accept interest, but wrote that I might make up to you whatever it amounted to. It amounts to more than the ten thousand dollars I have given you, but that I will account for later."
"I cannot realize my good fortune, Mr. Nixon. You and Mr. Nugent have been very kind to me."
"Are you tired of living in Montana?"
"I don't like it as well as living in my old home."
"Nor do I. With your help I propose to settle up my affairs, convert what property I have here into money, and go back to the East."
"I am very glad to hear you say so, Mr. Nixon."
"It will probably require six months. Then we will start. But you must stay with me there. I have no relations that I care for. I consider you my adopted son, and will see that you are provided for."
Steps were immediately taken to settle up Mr. Nixon's estate. To anticipate matters a little, it was found, after this was effected, that he possessed close upon seventy-five thousand dollars, though he had paid up the sum of his defalcation and made Gerald a gift of ten thousand dollars.
At length the time came when Mr. Nixon was ready to start for the East. The old man brightened up with anticipation.
"Gerald," he said, "I feel ten years younger. I really begin to think that I shall live a few years longer."
"I am sure you will, Mr. Nixon."
"How much I owe you! I little thought when you came to me, a mere boy, that you would do me so much good. John Nugent knew what he was about when he selected you as his messenger. How long is it since you came to me?"
"It must be nearly a year and a half."
"I should have been in my grave before this if you had not come. Do you ever hear from your stepmother?"
"I have not heard from her."
"She is still at Portville?"
"I suppose so."
"You won't leave me and go to live with her?"
"There is no danger of that," answered Gerald.
Mr. Nixon breathed a sigh of relief.
"Stay with the old man till he dies!" he pleaded. "You won't be sorry."
"I will, Mr. Nixon."
CHAPTER XXXV
JOHN GRAVES REAPPEARS
We must now go back to Portville and gather some information about Gerald's family.
Mrs. Lane lived in the old mansion that had belonged to his father. Abel also lived with her. He had teased her to go to the city to live, but she hesitated, partly from motives of prudence and partly from a thought of the temptations to which she feared Abel would yield.
She did not find her son a source of satisfaction. He was irritable and unpleasant in his manner, and a source of anxiety to her.
One day he came in and broke out: "What do you think I heard this morning?"
"I don't know. You had better tell me at once."
"Gerald is on his way home."
"Is he indeed? Who told you?"
"Munroe Hill. He lives near Mr. Nugent, you know. Mr. Nugent told him. Are you going to let him come here?"
"I don't know," replied Mrs. Lane, hesitatingly. "I presume he has some money."
"Then let him pay board. You can't afford to support him."
"People might say ill-natured things, as I received all my money from his father."
"Let them talk! It is none of their business. That reminds me, ma. Can't you let me have five dollars?"
"I let you have some money three days ago," said Mrs. Lane, frowning. "What did you do with it?"
"It was only three dollars."
"That is a good deal of money for a boy of your age. You seem to think I am made of money."
"You mustn't get mean, ma. Why, Mr. Lane left you as much as fifty thousand dollars. I have heard you say so."
"I will give you two dollars, and not a cent more. Don't ask me for any more for a week."
Abel did not commit himself, but taking the money, went down the street, where he soon spent part of it playing pool with a young man of not the best reputation.
Mrs. Lane sat down at her desk, and began to examine her accounts.
"Fifty thousand dollars!" she mused. "Yes, it is a goodly sum, and will maintain Abel and myself in comfort all our lives. I am sorry he is growing so extravagant. I shall have to check him. In one month I shall hand in my final accounts, and shall come into undisputed possession of my money. Then I shall be able to carry out the plan I have had in view so long, and will make a tour of Europe with Abel. I am told that it does not cost as much to travel in Europe as in this country. There, free from all money cares, I can enjoy myself. I can hardly wait for the time to come."
She closed her book and leaned back in her chair, in complacent thought.
But her meditation was soon interrupted.
"There's a gentleman below wishes to see you, Mrs. Lane," said Susan, the servant.
"Who is it? Did you ever see him before?"
"No, ma'am."
"What name did he give?"
"Here's his card, ma'am. I came near forgetting to give it to you."
Mrs. Lane took the card from the servant's hand, and glanced at it.
She turned pale and uttered a half exclamation. Of all men in the world John Graves was about the last she wished to see. It was he who had deposited thirty thousand dollars in her husband's hands, and now, doubtless, he had come to claim it. This would take away more than half of the fortune on whose possession she had been congratulating herself.
What should she do? While she was considering this difficult question, Mr. Graves was ushered into the room.
He was a man of somewhat less than medium size, sixty years of age, but looking considerably older on account of his white hair and beard.
"Mrs. Lane?" he said inquiringly.
"That's my name," she answered stiffly.
"I have been living in Australia," he resumed, "for many years. Circumstances cut me off from news, and it is only since I came to Portville that I learned the sad news of your husband's death."
Mrs. Lane did not reply, but regarded him with a frosty air.
"It seems my poor friend has been dead nearly two years?"
"Yes."
John Graves regarded her with some surprise, so cold and repelling was her manner.
"Our relations were very confidential," continued Graves. "Before I went away I deposited in your husband's hands, as he doubtless told you, the sum of thirty thousand dollars."
"You are mistaken, sir," returned Mrs. Lane, in an icy tone. "He never told me any such thing, and you must pardon me for saying that I do not believe such a preposterous statement!"
John Graves arched his eyebrows in amazement, and regarded Mrs. Lane for a moment without speaking.
"Did your husband leave no memorandum respecting my deposit?" he asked, after a pause.
"No, sir."
"That is very remarkable."
"It is more remarkable that you should come here with such a barefaced claim—a claim that would sweep away more than half of the estate my husband left."
"Then you doubt the genuineness of my claim?" he asked, calmly.
"I do."
"Then I will say good-by—for the present." John Graves rose, and, with a bow, left the room. Mrs. Lane breathed a sigh of relief.
"I think I have gotten rid of him," she said.
CHAPTER XXXVI
MRS. LANE'S DISCOMFITURE
It was soon noised about that John Graves was in town. Ten years before he had been a frequent visitor at the house of Mr. Lane, and he was still remembered by many.
Among those who were interested in his return was Enoch Perkins, the lawyer who had in his safe the letter which Mrs. Lane had lost relating to his claim on the estate. He had kept it carefully, not knowing whether it would ever be available. Now it seemed the time had come.
Mr. Graves was staying at the house of John Nugent, but he had not yet mentioned the business matter which he had discussed with Mrs. Lane. He was considering what he would do about it. Not that it would seriously embarrass him to lose the money, for he was a rich man outside of this sum. But he felt that at any rate he must substantiate his claim and prove that he was no impostor.
Graves was passing the office of the lawyer the next day, when Mr. Perkins called him to come in.
"I don't know if you know me, Mr. Graves," he said, "but when you were last here I had just opened an office. This is my card."
"I am glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Perkins," said Graves, politely.
"Will you pardon me for my abruptness, but have you not a claim—a large claim—on the estate of the late Mr. Lane?"
John Graves eyed him in amazement.
"How do you know this?" he asked.
"Let me show you."
He opened his safe and drew out the sheet of paper addressed by Mr. Lane to his wife.
As John Graves read it his eyes brightened and his face showed the relief he felt.
"So my friend was true to me, after all," he murmured.
"Have you been to see Mrs. Lane?" asked the lawyer, shrewdly.
"Yes."
"And she refuses to entertain your claim?"
"Yes. But how did you come into possession of this paper?"
The lawyer told him briefly.
"I foresaw what would happen," he said, "and I have kept this paper carefully for nearly two years."
"Thank you. You have done me a great service."
"The estate is not yet settled. That is, the final accounts have not been handed into the court. Mrs. Lane doubtless thinks she will be able to confiscate your claim. I have heard that she intends to go to Europe when her accounts are filed."
"She seems a very unprincipled woman. I am sorry that my old friend succeeded so poorly in his matrimonial venture."
"She did show not herself in her true colors till after his death. He died believing her to be a woman of good principles."
"I am glad of that."
"If you will put the matter in my hands, Mr. Graves, I will manage it for you."
"I will authorize you to do so. I do not care to see her again."
Mrs. Lane was considerably surprised to receive this letter, signed, "Enoch Perkins, Attorney-at-Law":
"Madam—You are requested to call at my office on business of great importance."
She was disposed at first to take no notice of the letter, but a feeling of uneasiness finally induced her to answer the summons.
"Mr. Perkins," she said, haughtily, as she entered the office, "I have received a strange letter from you."
"Be seated, madam, and I will let you know why I wrote. I am acting for Mr. John Graves, who has a large claim against you."
"I thought as much. He did me the honor to call yesterday and make a most preposterous claim against my husband's estate."
"Why preposterous?"
"It is very clear that he is trying to swindle me!"
"The claim is genuine."
"Let him prove it then!"
"He is prepared to do so."
"How?" she asked, a little startled.
"On your husband's testimony."
"My husband is dead."
"He left a memorandum in writing relating to this claim."
Mrs. Lane knew this, but she believed that it was no longer in existence.
"Let him produce it," she said, calmly.
"He is prepared to do so."
"There is no such memorandum in existence."
"Pardon me, but there is!"
"Where is it?"
"In my hands."
Mrs. Lane turned pale.
"I don't believe it!"
"Then I will show you a copy of it."
He drew from his desk a copy of the memorandum printed in an earlier part of this story.
"Read it, if you like," he said.
She did so, and her face twitched convulsively.
"I can't understand how this should have come into your hands," she said; "even if it were genuine?"
"Mrs. Lane, it was left by you on your desk nearly two years ago, and brought to me by a tramp, who didn't know its importance."
"Supposing this to be so, you should have returned it to me at once!" she snapped.
"You would have destroyed it."
"This is not in Mr. Lane's handwriting."
"No, but the original is."
"Let me see it."
"It will be shown in court."
Mrs. Lane breathed hard. She sat back in her chair, and a hard look came over her face.
"I will resist this swindle!" she hissed.
"As you please. Who is your lawyer?"
"I will consider. I am a woman, but I won't allow myself to be robbed!"
"As you please. I have no more to say to you this morning."
She left the office very much perturbed, but gradually became calmer.
"I will resist!" she declared. "Even if the memorandum is in Mr. Lane's handwriting, I shall claim that he was not in sound mind when he wrote it."
She must have a lawyer, however. There was another lawyer in Portville, and she summoned him.
"Mr. Bacon," she said, "a dastardly attempt has been made to swindle me out of thirty thousand dollars. The claimant is John Graves."
"But, Mrs. Lane, Mr. Graves is a man of the highest standing."
"I don't care! He is trying to swindle me now!"
"Please give me the particulars."
"I refer you to Enoch Perkins, whom he has engaged as counsel. He will give you all the information you require. I want you to act as my lawyer."
Mr. Bacon bowed.
"I will call on Lawyer Perkins," he said, "and see you again to-morrow morning."
The next morning he called.
"Well," he said, "I have seen Mr. Perkins."
"Well?"
"And I believe the claim of Mr. Graves to be genuine."
"He can't get the money on a mere memorandum."
"It might be difficult; but this suit would ruin your reputation for honesty. Everybody will believe Mr. Graves."
"Let them do it! I will keep the money!"
She said this between her set teeth.
"There is another little circumstance," said the lawyer, "which will make your case a desperate one."
"What is it?"
"Mr. Graves has your late husband's receipt for the money."
"It is a forgery!" she said, hoarsely.
"No, it is not. I have examined it, and can safely pronounce it to be in Mr. Lane's handwriting. I am very familiar with his handwriting, and so, indeed, are dozens of others in the town."
Mrs. Lane was silent, and her face showed her keen disappointment.
"Then you don't see any chance for me?" she said, in a low voice—"you don't see any chance for me?"
"None whatever."
"But it will ruin me. The interest will amount to a large sum."
"Mr. Perkins tells me that Mr. Graves will waive interest."
"I will let you know my decision to-morrow."
Mrs. Lane announced the next day that she would not resist the claim. It was a bitter disappointment, but she would have twenty thousand dollars left.
