Alger Horatio Jr.
Struggling Upward, or Luke Larkin's Luck
CHAPTER XIV
AN IMPORTANT WITNESS
The effect of Roland Reed's sudden appearance in the court-room, close upon the doubt expressed as to his existence, was electric. Every head was turned, and every one present looked with eager curiosity at the mysterious stranger. They saw a dark-complexioned, slender, but wiry man, above the middle height, with a pair of keen black eyes scanning, not without sarcastic amusement, the faces turned toward him.
Luke recognized him at once.
"Thank God!" he ejaculated, with a feeling of intense relief.
"Now my innocence will be made known."
Squire Duncan was quite taken aback. His face betrayed his surprise and disappointment.
"I don't know you," he said, after a pause.
"Perhaps not, Mr. Duncan," answered the stranger, in a significant tone, "but I know you."
"Were you the man who gave this tin box to the defendant?"
"Wouldn't it be well, since this is a court, to swear me as a witness?" asked Roland Reed, quietly.
"Of course, of course," said the squire, rather annoyed to be reminded of his duty by this stranger.
This being done, Mr. Beane questioned the witness in the interest of his client.
"Do you know anything about the tin box found in the possession of Luke Larkin?" he asked.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you commit it to his charge for safe-keeping?"
"I did."
"Were you previously acquainted with Luke?"
"I was not."
"Was it not rather a singular proceeding to commit what is presumably of considerable value to an unknown boy?"
"It would generally be considered so, but I do many strange things. I had seen the boy by daylight, though he had never seen me, and I was sure I could trust him."
"Why, if you desired a place of safe-keeping for your box, did you not select the bank vaults?"
Roland Reed laughed, and glanced at the presiding justice.
"It might have been stolen," he said.
"Does the box contain documents of value?"
"The contents are valuable to me, at any rate."
"Mr. Beane," said Squire Duncan, irritably, "I think you are treating the witness too indulgently. I believe this box to be the one taken from the bank."
"You heard the remark of the justice," said the lawyer. "Is this the box taken from the bank?"
"It is not," answered the witness, contemptuously, "and no one knows this better than Mr. Duncan."
The justice flushed angrily.
"You are impertinent, witness," he said. "It is all very well to claim this box as yours, but I shall require you to prove ownership."
"I am ready to do so," said Roland Reed, quietly. "Is that the box on the table?"
"It is."
"Has it been opened?"
"No; the key has disappeared from the bank."
"The key is in the hands of the owner, where it properly belongs.
With the permission of the court, I will open the box."
"I object," said Squire Duncan, quickly.
"Permit me to say that your refusal is extraordinary," said Mr. Beane, pointedly. "You ask the witness to prove property, and then decline to allow him to do so."
Squire Duncan, who saw that he had been betrayed into a piece of folly, said sullenly: "I don't agree with you, Mr. Beane, but I withdraw my objection. The witness may come forward and open the box, if he can."
Roland Reed bowed slightly, advanced to the table, took a bunch of keys from his pocket, and inserting one of the smallest in the lock easily opened the box.
Those who were near enough, including the justice, craned their necks forward to look into the box.
The box contained papers, certificates of stock, apparently, and a couple of bank-books.
"The box missing from the vault contained government bonds, as I understand, Squire Duncan?" said the lawyer.
"Yes," answered the justice, reluctantly.
"Are there any government bonds in the box, Mr. Reed."
"You can see for yourself, sir."
The manner of the witness toward the lawyer was courteous, though in the tone in which he addressed the court there had been a scarcely veiled contempt.
"I submit, then, that my young client has been guilty of no wrong. He accepted the custody of the box from the rightful owner, and this he had a clear right to do."
"How do you know that the witness is the rightful owner of the box?" demanded the justice, in a cross tone. "He may have stolen it from some other quarter."
"There is not a shadow of evidence of this," said the lawyer, in a tone of rebuke.
"I am not sure but that he ought to be held."
"You will hold me at your peril, Mr. Duncan," said the witness, in clear, resolute tones. "I have a clear comprehension of my rights, and I do not propose to have them infringed."
Squire Duncan bit his lips. He had only a smattering of law, but he knew that the witness was right, and that he had been betrayed by temper into making a discreditable exhibition of himself.
"I demand that you treat me with proper respect," he said angrily.
"I am ready to do that," answered the witness, in a tone whose meaning more than one understood. It was not an apology calculated to soothe the ruffled pride of the justice.
"I call for the discharge of my young client, Squire Duncan," said the lawyer. "The case against him, as I hardly need say, has utterly failed."
"He is discharged," said the justice, unwillingly.
Instantly Luke's friends surrounded him and began to shower congratulations upon him. Among them was Roland Reed.
"My young friend," he said, "I am sincerely sorry that by any act of mine I have brought anxiety and trouble upon you. But I can't understand how the fact that you had the box in your possession became known."
This was explained to him.
"I have a proposal to make to you and your mother," said Roland Reed, "and with your permission I will accompany you home."
"We shall be glad to have you, sir," said Mrs. Larkin, cordially.
As they were making their way out of the court-room, Melinda Sprague, the cause of Luke's trouble, hurried to meet them. She saw by this time that she had made a great mistake, and that her course was likely to make her generally unpopular. She hoped to make it up with the Larkins.
"I am so glad you are acquitted, Luke," she began effusively. "I hope, Mrs. Larkin, you won't take offense at what I did. I did what I thought to be my duty, though with a bleeding heart. No one is more rejoiced at dear Luke's vindication."
"Miss Sprague," said she, "if you think you did your duty, let the consciousness of that sustain you. I do not care to receive any visits from you hereafter."
"How cruel and unfeeling you are, Mrs. Larkin," said the spinster, putting her handkerchief to her eyes.
Mrs. Larkin did not reply.
Miss Sprague found herself so coldly treated in the village that she shortly left Groveton on a prolonged visit to some relatives in a neighboring town. It is to be feared that the consciousness of having done her duty did not wholly console her. What she regretted most, however, was the loss of the reward which she had hoped to receive from the bank.
CHAPTER XV
THE LARKINS ARE IN LUCK
Luke and his mother, accompanied by Roland Reed, took their way from the court-room to the widow's modest cottage.
"You may take the tin box, Luke," said the stranger, "if you are not afraid to keep in your charge what has given you so much trouble."
"All's well that ends well!" said Luke.
"Yes; I don't think it will occasion you any further anxiety."
Roland Reed walked in advance with Mrs. Larkin, leaving Luke to follow.
"What sort of a man is this Mr. Duncan?" he asked abruptly.
"Squire Duncan?"
"Yes, if that is his title."
"He is, upon the whole, our foremost citizen," answered the widow, after a slight hesitation.
"Is he popular?"
"I can hardly say that."
"He is president of the bank, is he not?"
"Yes."
"How long has he lived in Groveton?"
"Nearly twenty years."
"Was he born in this neighborhood?"
"I think he came from the West."
"Does he say from what part of the western country?"
"He says very little about his past life."
Roland Reed smiled significantly.
"Perhaps he has his reasons," he said meditatively.
"Is he thought to be rich?" he asked, after a pause.
"Yes, but how rich no one knows. He is taxed for his house and grounds, but he may have a good deal of property besides. It is generally thought he has."
"He does not appear to be friendly toward your son."
"No," answered Mrs. Larkin, with a trace of indignation, "though I am sure he has no cause to dislike him. He seemed convinced that Luke had come by your tin box dishonestly."
"It seemed to me that he was prejudiced against Luke. How do you account for it?"
"Perhaps his son, Randolph, has influenced him."
"So he has a son—how old?"
"Almost Luke's age. He thinks Luke beneath him, though why he should do so, except that Luke is poor, I can't understand. Not long since there was a skating match for a prize of a Waterbury watch, offered by the grammar-school teacher, which Luke would have won had not Randolph arranged with another boy to get in his way and leave the victory to him."
"So Randolph won the watch?"
"Yes."
"I suppose he had a watch of his own already."
"Yes, a silver one, while Luke had none. This makes it meaner in him."
"I don't mind it now, mother," said Luke, who had overheard the last part of the conversation. "He is welcome to his watches—I can wait."
"Has Squire Duncan shown his hostility to Luke in any other way?" inquired the stranger.
"Yes; Luke has for over a year been janitor at the school-house. It didn't bring much—only a dollar a week—but it was considerable to us. Lately Squire Duncan was appointed on the school committee to fill a vacancy, and his first act was to remove Luke from his position."
"Not in favor of his son, I conclude."
Luke laughed.
"Randolph would be shocked at the mere supposition," he said. "He is a young man who wears kid gloves, and the duties of a school janitor he would look upon as degrading."
"I really think, Luke, you have been badly treated," said Roland Reed, with a friendly smile.
"I have thought so, too, sir, but I suppose I have no better claim to the office than any other boy."
"You needed the income, however."
"Yes, sir."
By this time they were at the door of the cottage.
"Won't you come in, sir?" asked Mrs. Larkin, cordially.
"Thank you. I will not only do so, but as I don't care to stay at the hotel, I will even crave leave to pass the night under your roof."
"If you don't mind our poor accommodations, you will be very welcome."
"I am not likely to complain, Mrs. Larkin. I have not been nursed in the lap of luxury. For two years I was a California miner, and camped out. For that long period I did not know what it was to sleep in a bed. I used to stretch myself in a blanket, and lie down on the ground."
"You won't have to do that here, Mr. Reed," said Luke, smiling.
"But it must have been great fun."
"How can you say so, Luke?" expostulated his mother. "It must have been very uncomfortable, and dangerous to the health."
"I wouldn't mind it a bit, mother," said Luke, stoutly.
Roland Reed smiled.
"I am not surprised that you and your mother regard the matter from different points of view," he said. "It is only natural. Women are not adapted to roughing it. Boys like nothing better, and so with young men. But there comes a time—when a man passes forty—when he sets a higher value on the comforts of life. I don't mind confessing that I wouldn't care to repeat my old mining experiences."
"I hope you were repaid for your trouble and privations, sir."
"Yes, I was handsomely repaid. I may soon be as rich as your local magnate, Prince Duncan, but I have had to work harder for it, probably."
"So you know the squire's name?" said Mrs. Larkin, in some surprise.
"I must have heard it somewhere," remarked Roland Reed.
"Have I got it right?"
"Yes; it's a peculiar name."
When they reached the cottage Mrs. Larkin set about getting supper. In honor of her guest she sent out for some steak, and baked some biscuit, so that the table presented an inviting appearance when the three sat down to it. After supper was over, Roland Reed said: "I told you that I wished to speak to you on business, Mrs. Larkin. It is briefly this: Are you willing to receive a boarder?"
"I am afraid, sir, that you would hardly be satisfied with our humble accommodations."
"Oh, I am not speaking of myself, but of a child. I am a widower, Mrs. Larkin, and have a little daughter eight years of age. She is now boarding in New York, but I do not like the people with whom I have placed her. She is rather delicate, also, and I think a country town would suit her better than the city air. I should like to have her under just such nice motherly care as I am sure you would give her."
"I shall be very glad to receive her," said Mrs. Larkin, with a flush of pleasure.
"And for the terms?"
"I would rather you would name them, sir."
"Then I will say ten dollars a week."
"Ten dollars!" exclaimed the widow, in amazement. "It won't be worth half that."
"I don't pay for board merely, but for care and attendance as well.
She may be sick, and that would increase your trouble."
"She would in that case receive as much care as if she were my own daughter; but I don't ask such an exorbitant rate of board."
"It isn't exorbitant if I choose to pay it, Mrs. Larkin," said Mr. Reed, smiling. "I am entirely able to pay that price, and prefer to do so."
"It will make me feel quite rich, sir," said the widow, gratefully.
"I shall find it useful, especially as Luke has lost his situation."
"Luke may find another position."
"When do you wish your daughter to come?" asked Mrs. Larkin.
"Luke will accompany me to the city to-morrow, and bring her back with him. By the way, I will pay you four weeks in advance."
He drew four ten-dollar bills from his pocket and put them into the widow's hand.
"I am almost afraid this is a dream," said Mrs. Larkin.
"You have made me very happy."
"You mustn't become purse-proud, mother," said Luke, "because you have become suddenly rich."
"Can you be ready to take the first train to New York with me in the morning, Luke?" asked Roland Reed.
"Yes, sir; it starts at half-past seven."
"Your breakfast will be ready on time," said the widow, "and Luke will call you."
CHAPTER XVI
LUKE'S VISIT TO NEW YORK
The morning train to New York carried among its passengers Luke and his new friend. The distance was thirty-five miles, and the time occupied was a trifle over an hour. The two sat together, and Luke had an opportunity of observing his companion more closely. He was a man of middle age, dark complexion, with keen black eyes, and the expression of one who understood the world and was well fitted to make his way in it. He had already given the Larkins to understand that he had been successful in accumulating money.
As for Luke, he felt happy and contented. The tide of fortune seemed to have turned in his favor, or rather in favor of his family. The handsome weekly sum which would be received for the board of Mr. Reed's little daughter would be sufficient of itself to defray the modest expenses of their household. If he, too, could obtain work, they would actually feel rich.
"Luke," said his companion, "does your mother own the cottage where you live?"
"Yes, sir."
"Free of incumbrance?"
"Not quite. There is a mortgage of three hundred dollars held by Squire Duncan. It was held by Deacon Tibbetts, but about three months since Squire Duncan bought it."
"What could be his object in buying it?"
"I don't know, sir. Perhaps the deacon owed him money."
"I am surprised, then, that he deprived you of your position as janitor, since it would naturally make it more difficult for you to meet the interest."
"That is true, sir. I wondered at it myself."
"Your house is a small one, but the location is fine. It would make a building lot suitable for a gentleman's summer residence."
"Yes, sir; there was a gentleman in the village last summer who called upon mother and tried to induce her to sell."
"Did he offer her a fair price?"
"No, sir; he said he should have to take down the cottage, and he only offered eight hundred dollars. Mother would have sold for a thousand."
"Tell her not to accept even that offer, but to hold on to the property. Some day she can obtain considerably more."
"She won't sell unless she is obliged to," replied Luke. "A few days since I thought we might have to do it. Now, with the generous sum which you allow for your little girl's board there will be no necessity."
"Has Squire Duncan broached the subject to your mother?"
"He mentioned it one day, but he wanted her to sell for seven hundred dollars."
"He is evidently sharp at a bargain."
"Yes, sir; he is not considered liberal."
There was one thing that troubled Luke in spite of the pleasure he anticipated from his visit to New York. He knew very well that his clothes were shabby, and he shrank from the idea of appearing on Broadway in a patched suit too small for him. But he had never breathed a word of complaint to his mother, knowing that she could not afford to buy him another suit, and he did not wish to add to her troubles. It might have happened that occasionally he fixed a troubled look on his clothes, but if Roland Reed noticed it he did not make any comment.
But when they reached New York, and found themselves on Broadway, his companion paused in front of a large clothing store with large plate-glass windows, and said, quietly: "Come in, Luke. I think you need some new clothes."
Luke's face flushed with pleasure, but he said, "I have no money, Mr. Reed."
"I have," said Roland Reed, significantly.
"You are very kind, sir," said Luke, gratefully.
"It costs little to be kind when you have more money than you know what to do with," said Reed. "I don't mean that I am a Vanderbilt or an Astor, but my income is much greater than I need to spend on myself."
A suit was readily found which fitted Luke as well as if it had been made for him. It was of gray mixed cloth, made in fashionable style.
"You may as well keep it on, Luke." Then to the shopman: "Have you a nice suit of black cloth, and of the same size?"
"Yes, sir," answered the salesman, readily.
"He may as well have two while we are about it. As to the old suit, it is too small, and we will leave it here to be given away to some smaller boy."
Luke was quite overwhelmed by his new friend's munificence.
"I don't think mother will know me," he said, as he surveyed himself in a long mirror.
"Then I will introduce you or give you a letter of introduction.
Have you a watch, Luke?"
"No, sir; you know I did not get the prize at the skating match."
"True; then I must remedy the deficiency."
They took the roadway stage down below the Astor House—it was before the days of Jacob Sharp's horse railway—and got out at Benedict's. There Mr. Reed made choice of a neat silver watch, manufactured at Waltham, and bought a plated chain to go with it.
"Put that in your vest pocket," he said. "It may console you for the loss of the Waterbury."
"How can I ever repay you for your kindness, Mr. Reed?" said Luke, overjoyed.
"I have taken a fancy to you, Luke," said his companion. "I hope to do more for you soon. Now we will go uptown, and I will put my little girl under your charge."
Luke had dreaded making a call at a nice city house in his old suit. Now he looked forward to it with pleasure, especially after his new friend completed his benefactions by buying him a new pair of shoes and a hat.
"Luke," asked his companion, as they were on their way uptown in a Sixth Avenue car, "do you know who owned the box of bonds taken from the Groveton Bank?"
"I have heard that it was a Mr. Armstrong, now traveling in Europe."
"How did he come to leave the box in a village bank?"
"He is some acquaintance of Squire Duncan, and spent some weeks last summer at the village hotel."
"Then probably he left the box there at the suggestion of Duncan, the president."
"I don't know, sir, but I think it very likely."
"Humph! This is getting interesting. The contents of the box were government bonds, I have heard."
"I heard Squire Duncan say so."
"Were they coupon or registered?"
"What difference would that make, sir?"
"The first could be sold without trouble by the thief, while the last could not be disposed of without a formal transfer from the owner."
"Then it would not pay to steal them?"
"Just so. Luke, do you know, a strange idea has come into my head."
"What is it, sir?"
"I think Prince Duncan knows more about how those bonds were spirited away than is suspected."
Luke was greatly surprised.
"You don't think he took them himself, do you?" he asked.
"That remains to be seen. It is a curious affair altogether. I may have occasion to speak of it another time. Are you a good writer?"
"Fair, I believe, sir."
"I have recently come into possession of a business in a city in Ohio, which I carry on through a paid agent. Among other things, I have bought out the old accounts. I shall need to have a large number of bills made out, covering a series of years, which I shall then put into the hands of a collector and realize so far as I can. This work, with a little instruction, I think you can do."
"I shall be very glad to do it, sir."
"You will be paid fairly for the labor."
"I don't need any pay, Mr. Reed. You have already paid me handsomely."
"You refer to the clothing and the watch? Those are gifts. I will pay you thirty cents an hour for the time employed, leaving you to keep the account. The books of the firm I have at the house where my daughter is boarding. You will take them back to Groveton with you."
"This is a fortunate day for me," said Luke. "It will pay me much better than the janitorship."
"Do your duty, Luke, and your good fortune will continue. But here is our street."
They left the car at the corner of Fourteenth Street and Sixth Avenue, and turning westward, paused in front of a four-story house of good appearance.
