Alger Horatio Jr.
Mark Manning's Mission
CHAPTER XXIX.
MARK RECEIVES A TELEGRAM
"My good friend," said Mr. Hardy, "have you any reason to think your nephew's statement is to be relied upon?"
"I hope so," answered Anthony. "I am getting to be an old man, and I should like to feel that some one of my own blood would survive me, and profit by a part of the competence which God has bestowed upon me."
"It may be simply a money-making scheme on the part of Lyman," said the agent, thoughtfully. "Finding that he has little chance of becoming your heir, he wants to secure a handsome reward for restoring to you your grandson. Why has he not proposed it before?"
"Because he did not know I had any property to leave, or else because he supposed his own chances of inheriting good. After the last interview with me, he probably lost the hope of profiting by my death."
"There is something in what you say, Mr. Taylor. What is your own idea?"
"I would give five thousand dollars, if necessary, to secure the return of my grandson. It would give me an object to live for."
"I should be exceedingly sorry to see that sum pass into the hands of such a rascal as your graceless nephew."
"Would you offer two thousand?"
"I would hold no serious negotiations with him."
"But I would run the risk of leaving the poor boy to a life of poverty, and myself to a lonely old age."
"My idea is this. I will telegraph to Mark Manning, who is now in St. Louis, the particulars of your nephew's offer, with instructions to go at once to Chicago, find out Lyman, and put a detective on his track. If his story is true, he probably visits the boy from time to time. In this way it can be discovered where the boy lives, and steps can be taken to secure him."
"I approve of your plan," said Anthony. "Let it be carried out at once."
"There will be this advantage," added Hardy. "Your enterprising nephew will not realize any benefit from his nice little scheme for trading upon your affections."
"Do as you think best, my good friend. Your judgment is always better than mine."
John Hardy rapidly penned the following despatch.
"Mark Manning, Planter's Hotel, St. Louis: Go at once to Chicago and find Lyman Taylor. He knows where child is. Employ a detective, and track him to boy's residence. Don't let him suspect your object. Keep me apprised of your progress.
John Hardy."
This despatch reached Mark within two hours. He had been in St. Louis several days, and had learned nothing. Two or three persons had called upon him with bogus information in the hope of a reward, but he was sharp enough to detect the imposition. He was beginning to despair of success when Mr. Hardy's telegram was received. Mark brightened up. He saw his way clearer now.
He went out to purchase a ticket for Chicago, and on his return found a second telegram in these words:
"Lyman admits knowledge of boy, and offers to restore him for five thousand dollars."
"I will endeavor to thwart Mr. Lyman Taylor," said Mark to himself. "He is a greater rascal than I thought."
Mark paid his bill and took the next train for Chicago. He arrived late, and registered at the Fremont House, where he prepared himself for the difficult work that lay before him by taking a good night's rest. In the morning he awoke hopeful and determined, and after breakfast went out to walk. He had no clue to the where-abouts of Lyman, but thought it possible he might meet him as he had done before in the streets.
He walked about for two hours, keeping his eyes wide open, but though he scanned many hundreds of faces, that of Lyman Taylor was not among them. Yet his walk was to be more successful than he anticipated.
Little Jack still continued his street trade of selling matches. Peggy was not willing to give up the small revenue she obtained from the boy's sales. Sometimes, also, a compassionate passer-by would bestow a dime or nickel on the boy, pitying him for his thin face and sad expression. Sometimes, if Tim were not by, he would buy a cheap lunch, for the scanty rations which he received from Peggy, left him in a chronic state of hunger.
It was fortunate that the poor boy indulged himself thus, or his feeble strength would hardly have held out against hunger and hard work combined.
Unwittingly Jack had made an active enemy in Tim Roach. His refusal to treat, Tim persuaded himself, was very mean, and his indignation was increased by the ill-success of his attempt to secure pay for the information given to Peggy. He was anxious to be revenged upon Jack, and was only waiting for an opportunity.
Malice generally finds its opportunity after awhile. One day Jack set down his basket of matches a moment while he ran into a shop to change a twenty-five cent piece. Tim was close at hand, and slyly secured the basket, and fled swiftly through a narrow passage-way with his booty. He had not only secured a stock of merchandise, but he had got Jack into trouble.
When Jack came out and found his basket gone he was in dismay.
"Who took my basket?" he inquired of an applewoman, who kept a stand close by.
"There was a bye here just now—bigger than you. He must have run off wid it when my back was turned away."
"Where did he go?" asked Jack, anxiously.
"I didn't mind."
"What was he like?"
"Shure I've seed him here afore wid you. You called him Tim."
"It was Tim Roach!" exclaimed Jack. "He's a mean boy. He took it to get me into trouble."
"Shure he looks like a thafe."
The tears started to Jack's eyes.
"I don't know what to do," he said, piteously. "I am afraid Peggy will beat me when I get home."
"Who is Peggy?" asked a new voice.
Jack looked towards the speaker. He saw a pleasant-faced boy, apparently about sixteen.
"She's the woman I live with," answered Jack.
"What will she beat you for?" asked Mark, for it was he. He had just come up, and hadn't heard of Jack's misfortune, but his heart was stirred to sympathy, by the sadness visible upon the little boy's face.
"For losing my matches," and thereupon Jack told his story to his new acquaintance.
"How much were the matches worth?" asked Mark.
"There were fourteen boxes. They cost me three cents a piece. Then there was the basket. That cost a quarter."
"Do you know where to buy more?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then take this dollar bill, and get a new supply."
Jack's little face glowed with gratitude.
"Oh, how kind you are!" he said.
"Do you generally stand here?" asked Mark.
"Yes, sir."
"Does this Peggy send you out every day?"
"Yes, sir."
"Is she related to you?"
"I thought she was my aunt," answered the match boy, "but last evening a gentleman called on Peggy, I heard them talking when they thought I was asleep," Jack continued in a lower tone. "I heard the gentleman say I had a grandfather living at the East, and that he would pay a good sum to get hold of me. I wish he would, for Peggy doesn't give me enough to eat, and sometimes she beats me."
"Tell me about this gentleman," said Mark in excitement. "Is he tall?"
"Yes, sir."
"With black hair and whiskers?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you know his name?"
"No, sir; but there he is now!"
Mark followed the direction of the boy's finger, and he recognized, though his head was turned, the familiar form of Lyman Taylor on the opposite side of the street.
CHAPTER XXX.
MARK MAKES ARRANGEMENTS WITH JACK
Mark's excitement was at fever heat. In the most wonderful manner he had succeeded almost without an effort. He could not doubt that this boy was the very one of whom he was in search.
He was apprehensive that Lyman would turn, and on recognizing him penetrate his design and arrange to defeat it. But fortunately the object of his dread appeared to have other business in hand and kept on his way, never turning back.
"How old are you?" he asked, thinking it best to make assurance doubly sure.
"Peggy says I'm goin' on eight," answered the match boy.
"That is the right age," thought Mark.
"Have you always lived in Chicago?" he continued.
"No, sir; Peggy brought me from St. Louis when I was a very little child."
"I suppose you don't remember much about St. Louis?"
"I don't remember it at all."
"What does Peggy do for a living?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders.
"Nothing much," he answered; "she says she isn't well enough to work."
"Surely she does not depend wholly upon what you earn?"
"I don't know. Sometimes she gets money in a letter. I think it comes from her son."
"Then she has a son?"
"Yes."
"Where does he live?"
"I saw one of his letters once. It said Fall River on the wrapper. I think he works in a factory."
"Fall River is a city in Massachusetts. I have never been there, but I hear that they have factories there."
"So you can read writing?" asked Mark after a pause.
"Yes, a little."
"And I suppose you can read books and papers?"
"A little. I went to a primary school for a little while, and afterwards a lady used to hear my lessons. She lived in the same place with us."
"Did you like studying?"
"Ever so much. I should be happy if I could go to school again, but Peggy says I know enough, and she needs me to earn my living."
"Do you know the name of that gentleman you pointed out to me?"
"No, I don't think I heard Peggy mention his name."
"How long has he been in the habit of coming to see you and Peggy?"
"He has only been there two or three times. Peggy didn't remember him at first. I think they used to know each other a good while ago."
"Suppose this gentleman's story were true, and you had a grandfather at the East who could take good care of you, would you be willing to go to him?"
"Would he be kind to me? Do you know him?" asked the little fellow eagerly.
"Yes, I know him, and I am sure he would be very kind to you. Would you be willing to leave Peggy?"
"Yes," answered little Jack promptly.
"How does she treat you?"
"If I bring home a good bit of money, she pats me on the head and says I am a good boy, but if I am not lucky she is very cross, and sometimes she beats me."
Mark's sympathies were aroused. Jack was so small, and weak in appearance, that it seemed to him revolting to think of his being at the mercy of a cruel old woman. Half unconsciously his fist doubled up, his teeth closed firmly together, and he just wished he had the merciless Peggy in his power.
"Is Peggy temperate?" he asked.
Jack looked at him inquiringly.
"Does she drink?" Mark asked, changing the form of his question.
"She drinks beer, and sometimes whiskey," answered Jack.
"Does she get—drunk?"
"Sometimes."
"How does it affect her?"
"It makes her sleepy or cross. I always run away when she has been drinking—when I can, but sometimes she locks the door and fastens me in. Then, if I can, I hide under the bed."
"Poor boy! you have a hard time of it. Now, Jack, can you keep a secret?"
Jack nodded, and his face assumed a cunning look, for the poor boy had more than once felt obliged to practice dissimulation, in the rough school in which he had been trained.
"Yes," he answered.
"Then I am going to tell you a secret. Your grandfather sent me out here to find you."
"He sent you!" ejaculated Jack.
"Yes."
"But I thought he sent that gentleman—the one I pointed out to you."
"No; that gentleman, as you call him, is your mother's cousin. He is a near relation of yours."
"But he spoke to Peggy about carrying me back to my grandfather."
"He has an object in view. He won't give you up to your grandfather unless he gets a large sum of money. I suppose he has promised to give Peggy some of the money."
"Yes, I heard him promise Peggy a hundred dollars."
Mark smiled.
"Then I think he is going to cheat Peggy," he said. "He wants five thousand dollars for himself."
"Why, that is a good deal more than a hundred dollars."
"Yes, it is fifty times as much. Did Peggy seem to be satisfied with a hundred?"
"No; she said it was very little, but he said perhaps my grandfather would give her as much as that every year."
"It is evident he proposes to take the old woman in."
"I don't care, if he will only take me back to my grandfather. Will he give me enough to eat?"
"My poor child, are you hungry?" asked Mark, compassionately.
"Yes; I think I am always hungry," sighed Jack. "Peggy says I eat too much."
"You don't look much like it. Now Jack, one thing more. Would you be willing to leave Peggy, and go to New York with me?"
"Would you take me to my grandfather?"
"Yes; that is just what I want to do."
"I am ready to go now," said Jack, putting his hand confidingly in Mark's.
"That is well, but it will be better to wait till to-morrow. What time do you get up in the morning?"
"About eight o'clock. It isn't any use to go out too early."
"And at what time do you come here, Jack?"
"About half-past eight or nine."
"Then I will meet you to-morrow, somewhere about that time, and I will have tickets ready to take us to New York. We can catch the ten o'clock train. There isn't any danger of Peggy keeping you, is there?"
"Not unless she thinks I am goin' to run away."
"She mustn't suspect that. We must be sure to keep that from her. I suppose you have no other clothes than those you have on?"
"No, sir."
"I will hunt up a clothing-store, and get you fitted out before we start. I shouldn't like your grandfather to see you in that ragged suit."
Jack looked down at his jacket, frayed, tattered and greasy, and said:
"I've often wished I had nice clothes like that boy," and he pointed out a boy of about his own age, dressed in knickerbockers.
"You shall have your wish to-morrow, Jack. Now I suppose you had better go and buy some more matches, so that Peggy won't suspect anything."
"Yes, sir."
"You'll be sure to meet me to-morrow, Jack?"
"Yes, sir."
"And don't let Peggy suspect from your looks that anything is going on."
"Yes, sir."
"Everything looks favorable," thought Mark as he walked slowly to his hotel. "To-morrow at this time Peggy and the worthy Lyman will be mourning for a lost boy."
CHAPTER XXXI.
JACK TALKS IN HIS SLEEP
Jack was naturally very much excited by the new prospects that opened out before him. He had seen little happiness in his short life. It is a sad thing to say that he had hardly ever known what it was to eat a full meal. Cold and pinching privation, and long, toilsome days in the streets, had been his portion hitherto. Was it possible, he asked himself, that all this was to be changed.
Was he to have a home like other boys, and a relation who was able to supply him with the comforts of which he knew so little?
It seemed like a dream, and little Jack might have been tempted to distrust the information which had been given to him. But somehow he could not help feeling confidence in what Mark told him. He felt that Mark would not deceive him, and the dream must come true after all.
Jack finished out the day as usual, and went home. Peggy's attention was at once called to the new basket.
"Where did that come from?" she asked.
"My basket was stolen, and a kind gentleman gave me money to buy this." Jack answered.
"Was the matches stole too?"
"Yes; he gave me money enough to buy as many as I lost."
"Who stole 'em? Do you know?"
"I think it was Tim Roach. He was hangin' round, at the time I lost it."
"Did he snatch it from you?"
"No; I laid it down a minute while I went into a cigar store to get a quarter changed for a gentleman who had just bought a box of matches, when Tim picked it up and ran away."
"I'd like to get hold of Tim!" said Peggy wrathfully. "I'd wring his neck for him, the little wretch!"
Then a new and cunning idea came to Peggy.
"I tell you what to do, Jack," she said; "just you go out to-morrow mornin' without any basket, and begin to cry, and tell people that you've had your matches stolen. Then somebody'll give you money, and you can bring it home."
"But that would be tellin' a lie, Peggy," objected Jack.
"And what if it is!" retorted Peggy. "You needn't be so dreadfully good. It ain't a lie that'll hurt anybody, and the gentlemen that gives you the money won't miss it."
It occurred to Jack that it would suit his plans to go out the next morning without the basket. Considering how he had been brought up, his conscience was unusually tender, and he would not have liked to leave the city without returning the basket and his stock-in-trade to Peggy. Besides, she could have him arrested for theft, if she chose. He decided, therefore, that he would make no further objection to Peggy's proposal.
"Just as you say, Peggy," he said, submissively.
"That's a good boy!" said Peggy, good-humoredly. "That's a pretty good snap!" she said to herself, complacently. "I don't know why we shouldn't foller it up. It'll be more than the profit of the matches, and Jack can do it two or three times a day."
It did, indeed, seem a very ingenious method of raising money, and answered the purpose of begging, without being open to the usual objection.
Jack usually got tired with being about the streets all day, and after he had eaten the frugal supper with which Peggy had provided him, he lay down on a pallet provided for him in the corner of the room, and was soon asleep. But with such a momentous secret on his mind, it will not be a matter of surprise that Jack's thoughts, even in sleep, were occupied with his new plan. Whenever he was restless he was apt to talk in his sleep, and did so on the present occasion.
Peggy had not gone to bed, but sat in an old wooden rocking-chair, smoking a pipe.
"What's the boy sayin'?" she asked herself, as Jack began to talk. "I'll listen, and then if he's been up to any mischief, he'll out with it."
She removed the pipe, and drawing near the pallet, bent over, and strove to catch the disconnected words that fell from the boy's lips.
"I'm goin'—to—my grandfather!" she heard Jack say, and the words startled her.
"Who's been talkin' to him about his grandfather?" Peggy exclaimed, startled. "I didn't know he'd heard a word about him."
"He says—he will—take me!" continued Jack, in a drowsy tone.
"He says he'll take him!" repeated Peggy, in surprise and alarm. "Who's he, I'd like to know."
Her suspicions fell at once upon Lyman. No one, so far as she knew, had any knowledge of Jack's relations except Lyman. Evidently Lyman had been talking to the boy on the sly.
"The villain!" said Peggy, indignantly; "I know what he's up to. He wants to get the boy away from me, and get all the reward himself. He's going to leave Peggy out in the cowld, and abduct the boy on the sly. I've found him out, the artful schamer. So he thinks he can over-rache ould Peggy, does he? He'll find it's a cowld day when ould Peggy gets left."
Jack began to talk again.
"He says he'll take me off in the cars," he continued. "I like to ride in the cars. My grandfather will give me enough to eat, and I won't have to sell matches for a livin'."
"The ongrateful young kid," commented Peggy, looking angrily at the sleeping boy. "So he wants to lave me who've took care of him ever since he was a babby, and he don't mind it no more'n if I was a puppy dog. I that have been a mother to him!"
Peggy rocked back and forward, and actually persuaded herself that little Jack was very ungrateful. It is curious how we misrepresent matters from our own point of view. It was Jack who had supported Peggy, and she was far more indebted to him than he was to her, but somehow she could not see it. She did, however, understand fully how unpleasant it would be to lose Jack's services, unless she could receive, as Lyman had led her to expect, an adequate compensation from his grandfather.
Peggy deliberated as to what was best to be done. In the first place, she wanted to find out for a certainty whether Lyman had really entered into a conspiracy against her and meant to abduct Jack without her knowledge or consent. It seemed on the whole, the best thing to get up herself and follow Jack the next morning, and make sure that Lyman did not have a secret conference with him.
When Jack was ready to start out the next morning, Peggy asked with apparent carelessness, "Jack, dear, do you ever see the tall gentleman that calls here sometimes?"
"Yes, Peggy; I saw him yesterday," answered Jack, readily.
"And what did he say to you?" she asked eagerly.
"He didn't speak to me at all."
"That's a lie!" Peggy said to herself. "He told the bye not to tell." But she didn't think it best to charge Jack with it, and so through him put Lyman on his guard.
"Remember, lad, you've got no better friend than ould Peggy. If you should lave her, she'd die of grafe."
"Thank you, Peggy," said Jack, but he was not much impressed by this declaration of affection from one who often beat and systematically starved him.
Five minutes after Jack had left the house, Peggy threw on her old cloak, and, at a safe distance, followed her youthful charge, meaning to keep him under her eye, and watch lest he should be carried off by Lyman Taylor. But luckily for Jack, whose meeting with Mark would otherwise have been detected, she changed her plan, when she recognized a little in advance Lyman himself on State Street.
"It'll be better to watch him," she decided, and gave up following Jack.
Meanwhile Jack had not been at his usual stand more than ten minutes, when Mark came up.
"I am glad you are ahead of time, Jack," he said. "Come along with me."
