Stratemeyer Edward
Out For Business or Robert Frost's Strange Career
CHAPTER XXVII.
MR. TALBOT RECEIVES ANOTHER SET-BACK
"He's in a rage, it's easy to see that. I wonder what he will do next?"
Such was the mental question Robert asked when he found himself once more alone.
James Talbot had tried a little plan of his own, and it had failed and left him in a worse position than before.
He had hoped by offering Robert a good salary—to be paid out of Mrs. Talbot's money—to get the youth under his thumb. But our hero had refused to have anything to do with him and had threatened to do all he could to induce Mrs. Talbot to keep her fortune in her own control.
"He's a regular imp," muttered James Talbot, as he hurried down the street, so enraged that he scarcely knew where he was walking. "If he writes home to his mother it will be harder than ever to do anything with her. I wish he was at the bottom of the sea!"
His soliloquy was brought to a sudden and unexpected termination when he passed around a corner and ran full tilt into another individual. Both went sprawling, and both were for the instant deprived of their wind.
"Who—what—?" spluttered James Talbot, as he picked himself up.
"You fool, you!" panted the other individual. "What do you mean by driving into me in this fashion?"
"I—I didn't see you," answered Talbot.
"You must be blind," stormed the party who had been knocked down.
"I'm not blind. I—I—was in a tremendous hurry." James Talbot looked at the other man curiously. "I—er—I—think I've met you before."
"I don't remember you."
"Isn't your name Livingston Palmer?"
"It is."
"I saw you in Granville—at the theater, and later on at the railroad station."
Palmer, for it was really he, flushed up.
"Perhaps you belonged to that mob that assaulted our troupe," he sneered. "Your actions here are in the same line."
"No, I had no fault to find with the theatrical company," returned James Talbot slowly. The meeting had surprised him greatly, and he began to wonder how he might turn it to account. "I wonder if you know who I am?" he added, after a pause.
"I can't say that I do."
"I am James Talbot, the husband of the lady upon whom you called."
"Oh! Then you are Robert Frost's step-father," exclaimed Livingston Palmer.
"I am. May I ask what induced you to call upon my wife?"
Again Palmer flushed up.
"I think, Mr. Talbot, that that was my affair."
"Do you mean to say you refuse to tell?"
"Well, if you must know, I will tell you—so that Mrs. Talbot may not get into trouble over it. Your townpeople treated me so shabbily that I called upon your wife for a small loan, so that I might get back to Chicago."
"Humph! Then Robert didn't send you to see her?"
"No, Robert knew nothing about my going to Granville."
"I thought you and he were great friends?"
"So we are, but he didn't know where I was going when we separated."
"A likely story," sneered James Talbot. "I believe that boy sent you to my wife with a message."
"You can think as you please," cried Palmer hotly. "I have told you the plain truth. But I guess Robert will have to send a private messenger, since his letters don't reach his mother."
The shot told, and James Talbot grew pale for the moment. Then he recovered himself.
"I won't stand any of your slurs, young man. I reckon you are no better than Robert."
"I don't want to be any better than Robert. He's a first-rate fellow."
"He is an impudent cub."
"That is only your opinion."
"I am his step-father, and in the eyes of the law I am as a real father to him. Yet instead of minding me he openly defies me."
"I don't know but what I would do the same," answered Palmer coolly.
"I want to do what is right by him—make something of him—but he won't let me do it."
"He is able to take care of himself."
"No, he is not. Sooner or later he'll be going to the dogs."
"He told me all about how you had treated him. I don't blame him for leaving home, although it may be possible that he would have done better by sticking to his mother."
"Do you mean to insinuate that his mother may need him?"
"I don't wonder if she does, Mr. Talbot. As I understand the matter she is rich."
"Well?"
"It would be a great temptation for some husbands to try to get that money in their own hands."
James Talbot grew crimson.
"You insult me!" he ejaculated.
Livingston Palmer shrugged his shoulders.
"You can take it as you please. I didn't stop you. You ran into me and knocked me down."
"Where are you going?"
"That is my affair."
"You are going to call upon Robert."
"Perhaps I am."
"If you do, let me warn you not to talk about me and my wife. Did she send the boy a message?"
"If she did I shan't deliver it to you," answered Livingston Palmer, and proceeded on his way. James Talbot gazed after him in anger and disappointment.
"Another who is against me," he muttered. "I must hurry my schemes, or it will be too late to put them through."
Livingston Palmer had just reached Mrs. Gibbs' boarding house when he met Robert coming out, on his way to see Herman Wenrich about the map.
"Robert!" cried the former clerk. "I'm glad I caught you."
"Why, Livingston, I thought you were on the road," returned Robert, as he shook hands.
"Not much! No more theatrical life for me," said Palmer.
"What, have you had enough already?"
"Yes, and got it in your native town, too."
"In Granville?"
"Exactly. We opened in Granville and we busted in Granville," said Palmer, and in such a dubious fashion that our hero could scarcely keep from laughing outright.
"What, has the Dixon Combination Comedy Company gone to pieces?"
"It has—at least so far as I am concerned. Dixon isn't going to show again until the performers have rehearsed for another couple of weeks."
Palmer did not wish to go into the details of his bitter experience, so without delay he began to tell of his visit to Mrs. Talbot and of what she had done and said, and then before Robert could interrupt him he told of the meeting with James Talbot.
"Yes, my step-father was here," said Robert. "I am satisfied that he is not to be trusted. I shall write my mother a long letter about him as soon as I can get the chance. But now I must be off, as I have some important business to attend to for Mr. Marden. What are you going to do?"
"I am going to call upon Mr. Gray and see if he intends to open up again," answered Livingston Palmer. "After this office life will be good enough for me."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE CONSPIRATORS ARE DISGUSTED
Less than an hour later found Robert at Herman Wenrich's modest home. A ring at the door bell brought Nettie Wenrich, who smiled pleasantly upon seeing our hero.
"My father is much better, thank you," said the girl, in reply to Robert's question concerning her parent's health. "I was afraid he would not get well before, but now I am sure he will."
"I am glad to hear that," answered the boy.
"Those men were here again," went on Nettie. "They are very anxious to get the map, and they offered my father fifty dollars for it."
"They offered two hundred dollars," came from the bedchamber, for Robert and Nettie were ascending the stairs, and old Herman Wenrich had overheard the talk. "The fifty dollar offer was only their first."
The old lumberman shook hands cordially.
"But you have the map, haven't you?" questioned Robert eagerly.
"To be sure I have, my lad. Herman Wenrich's word is as good as his bond."
"You know I am authorized to give you a hundred dollars," went on Robert.
"And didn't I say I didn't want a cent from Felix Amberton?" cried the old man. "All I want is that order, to make certain that I am not going astray—not but what you look honest enough."
"Here is the order, just received by mail," and Robert handed it over.
Herman Wenrich had his daughter bring spectacles and he perused the paper with great care.
"That's all right—I know Amberton's signature well—saw it on many a check he gave me. You shall have the map. Nettie, bring me my tin box."
"I will, father," answered the daughter, and left the room.
"What did those men have to say when you told them that I had said they were not working for Felix Amberton's interest?" asked Robert while she was gone.
"I didn't tell them anything about it. I merely told them to hold off for a day or two, and I would consider their offer."
"They'll be mad when they learn the truth."
"I shall show them this order for the map. They probably know Amberton's signature as well as I do."
"Perhaps so."
"I suppose you are going to send that to Timberville by the first mail."
"I am going to take it up myself. Mr. Marden wants to come up."
"You will find it a wild section of the country—a good bit different from around here."
"I shan't mind that—in fact, I think I'll rather like the change."
"It's a good place for a fellow who is strong and healthy. There are fortunes in the lumber business."
"I've no doubt of it."
"I went into the district a poor man, and worked at cutting lumber at a dollar and a half a day. Inside of fifteen years I came out something like twelve thousand dollars ahead. Of course that isn't a fortune, but you must remember that I lost about ten thousand dollars by two spring freshets which carried off nearly all I at those times possessed. If I had remained there I would have been better off. But I came to Chicago and speculated, and now my fortune amounts to very little, I can tell you that."
By this time Nettie came back with a long tin box painted black. It was locked, and the key was in a pocketbook under the sick man's pillow. Soon the box was opened and Herman Wenrich took out a paper yellow with age.
"This is the map," he said. "If I were you I would be very careful of how I handled it, or it may go to pieces. Nettie, haven't you a big envelope in which to place it?"
"I think I have, father," she replied, and went off to hunt up the article.
During her absence Robert looked over the document, and found that it contained not only a map but also a long written description of several lumber tracts, including that which Felix Amberton had once purchased from a man named Gregory Hammerditch.
"This must be some relative to the Hammerditch I met," said our hero.
"It was an uncle. The trouble started through this Gregory Hammerditch and the Canadian, Jean Le Fevre. They claimed the land was never paid for, I believe."
At that moment came a ring at the front door bell.
"It is those two men!" cried Nettie, who stood close to the window.
"You mean the Canadian and the Englishman?" asked Robert.
"Yes."
"Do you wish to meet them?" questioned Herman Wenrich. "If so, I have no objection."
"I would like to hear what they have to say, sir."
"You can go into the back bedroom, if you wish."
The idea struck Robert as a good one, and while Nettie went below to let the visitors in our hero entered the rear apartment, leaving the door open several inches.
Soon he heard Hammerditch and Le Fevre ascending the stairs.
"Good-morning," said both, as they came in and sat down close to Herman Wenrich's bedside.
"Good-morning," replied the old lumberman shortly.
"Well, I trust you have decided to sell us the map," continued the Englishman.
"I have decided not to do so."
"Indeed." The faces of both men fell. "The map is of no use to you, Mr. Wenrich," went on Hammerditch.
"That may be true."
"And it is no more than right that we should have it."
"Dat is so," said the Canadian. "Ze map should be ours."
"You said Mr. Amberton had sent you for the map," said Herman Wenrich.
"So he did," answered Hammerditch, and Le Fevre nodded.
"Did he give you a written order?"
"He did not. He didn't think it was necessary."
"I have received a written order—or rather, a written request, for it."
At this both of the visitors were dumfounded.
"A written order?" gasped Hammerditch.
"Yes."
"By mail?"
"No, a young man brought it."
"Ze order must be von forgery!" came from the French Canadian.
"Certainly it must be a forgery," added his companion.
"It is no forgery, gentlemen."
The voice came from the rear doorway, and Robert confronted them.
"Who are you?" demanded Hammerditch roughly.
"My name is Robert Frost."
"I never heard of you before."
"I am a friend to Mr. Richard Marden, the nephew of Felix Amberton."
"And you come for ze map?" queried Jean Le Fevre.
"Yes."
"It's an outrage!" burst out Hammerditch. "The map belongs to us."
"No, it belongs to Mr. Wenrich."
"What do you intend to do with it?"
"I intend to turn it over to Mr. Amberton and Mr. Marden."
"It will do them no good."
"I think it will."
"Amberton shall never have that timber land."
"How will you stop him?"
"Never mind, he shall never have it."
"We haf ze other map," said Le Fevre.
"There isn't any other map," put in Herman Wenrich.
"Yes, there is," said Hammerditch.
"Perhaps it's one you had made down to Cresson & Page," said Robert, mentioning the firm of mapmakers, to whom he had applied for a situation.
Both Le Fevre and Hammerditch were amazed.
"What do you know of that?" demanded the Englishman.
"He haf played ze part of a spy!" hissed the French Canadian.
"I have spied upon nobody. I was at Cresson & Page's place when you came there, and I couldn't help overhear what you said about the map."
"Bah, he is a spy, sure enough," ejaculated Hammerditch, in disgust. "Jean, we have played into the hands of our enemies."
"Zat is so, but it shall do zem no good," answered the Canadian. "We haf better git back to Timberville as soon as possible," he added, in a whisper.
"I reckon you are about right," said Hammerditch. He bowed himself toward the door.
"You are going?" asked Herman Wenrich.
"Yes, we are going. You have played us for a pair of fools," replied the Englishman.
He ran down the stairs, with Le Fevre at his heels. Soon both were outside and stalking up the street rapidly. Robert began to laugh.
"They are a pair of rascals," he remarked. "I am awfully glad I outwitted them."
"So am I glad," answered Herman Wenrich.
"And I am glad, too," said Nettie, with a bright smile. "But if I were you I wouldn't lose any time in getting to Timberville with the map."
"I will leave this afternoon," answered the boy.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A LUCKY CHANGE OF STATEROOMS
Robert found that the afternoon boat for Muskegon left at half past three, so there was still time left in which to get back to Mrs. Gibbs' house for a late dinner.
At the boarding house he found a short note from Livingston Palmer.
"Mr. Gray is going to go into business again," it read; "with one office here and another in New York. He is going to take me back and he says you can return too, if you desire."
"That's nice," thought Robert. "But I'll have to see Dick Marden before I decide upon what's best to do next."
While waiting for dinner he penned a hasty reply to the note, and also a letter to his mother. In the latter he mentioned that he had seen Palmer, and that his step-father had called upon him, and urged her to keep her financial affairs entirely under her own control. He was careful to send the letter in care of Mr. Blarcomb, for personal delivery only.
"She'll get that, I know," he said to himself. "And I hope it does some good."
At the proper time our hero went down to the dock and boarded the Arrow, as the steamer was named. He found about two hundred passengers besides himself bound for Muskegon and other points along the Michigan shore. Besides passengers the Arrow carried a large quantity of baggage and freight.
The distance from Chicago to Muskegon is about one hundred and twenty-five miles. The Arrow was rather a slow boat and did not reach the latter point until some time in the early morning, so that Robert must spend a night on board. This being so, he lost no time in obtaining a berth.
He had just turned away from the clerk's office when he saw two men approaching. They were Hammerditch and Le Fevre.
"Hullo, they are going too," he thought, and was about to step out of sight, when the Englishman espied him.
"Humph! so you are going with us," said the man, with a scowl.
"Not with you," answered Robert quietly. "I believe this is a public boat."
"You have been following us again."
"Excuse me, Mr. Hammerditch, but I never followed you in my life."
"Then why are you on this boat?"
"Because I am going to take a trip in her."
"To Muskegon?"
"That is my affair."
"I suppose if we get off at Muskegon you will get off too."
"Perhaps I shall."
"Don't you know that you may get into a good deal of trouble through following us, young man?"
"As I said before, I am not following you. I have my own business to attend to and I am attending to it."
"Bah, do you think we will believe zat," burst in Jean Le Fevre. "You are von spy. Perhaps you are von—vot you call heem?—von detective."
At this Robert laughed. "No, I am no detective. Only a young fellow out for business."
"Zen you are on ze way to Timberville, hey?"
"If I am that is my business."
At this the French Canadian began to dance around and shook his fist in Robert's face.
"I know you!" he shouted. "But ve vill see who comes out best! Ha! ve vill see zat!"
"Hush!" interrupted Hammerditch. "Don't raise a disturbance on the boat," and he led his companion away to the upper deck.
"I shall have to keep my eye on them," thought Robert. "That Frenchmen wouldn't like anything better than to get into a fight. I might fight one of them, but I don't think I could get the best of both."
Once on the upper deck and away from observation, Hammerditch began to talk earnestly to his companion.
"We made a mistake by quarreling with him," he said.
"I cannot see eet," muttered Le Fevre.
"If we had made friends with him he might have shown us the map."
"Ha! zat is so."
"I would give a good lot to get hold of the map," continued the Englishman. "Our false map may help us some, but that real map ought to be out of the way."
At this Le Fevre clutched his companion by the arm.
"I haf an idee," he whispered. "Let us see if ze boy has got a stateroom."
"We can find that out at the office."
"And if he is to sleep alone."
"All right."
A little later they went to the office and looked over the register.
"Here he is—Robert Frost, room 45," said Hammerditch.
"Anybody else in zat room?"
They looked over the register, but could find nobody else.
"He will haf ze room all to himself," chuckled Jean Le Fevre. "Now if I can find a way to open ze door–"
"You mean to search his valise for the map?"
"To be sure."
"A good idea. We must work the plan, by all means," replied Hammerditch.
In the meantime Robert had gone to the bow of the boat and was enjoying the sea breeze.
Presently the clerk of the boat came up, followed by two burly Germans.
"I believe this is Mr. Robert Frost," said the clerk.
"That's my name," answered Robert, wondering what was wanted.
"These gentlemen are brothers and desire a stateroom together," explained the clerk. "If you do not mind I would like to put you in stateroom No. 50, along with a very nice gentleman named Porter, and give these gentlemen No. 45. Otherwise I will have to put one of them with you and one with Mr. Porter. They prefer to be together."
"It vill pe a great favor," said one of the Germans politely.
"All right, I would just as lief go in with the gentleman you mentioned," answered Robert.
"Dank you very mooch," said the German.
"You vos very kind," added his brother.
"All right then, that's settled," said the clerk. "Mr. Frost, I will have your baggage transferred, if you will give me your key."
"I will transfer the baggage myself and take a look at the other stateroom," rejoined Robert.
Our hero and the clerk went below, and Robert took his bag to stateroom No. 50, which was better than the other. Mr. Porter sat outside of the door reading a newspaper, and the clerk introduced the pair. The stranger proved to be a Chicago hardware merchant on his way into Michigan on a business trip.
"I am glad to know you," he said, smiling pleasantly. "I hate to travel alone when there is the chance of an agreeable companion."
"Thank you! I think I can say the same," replied Robert, with a smile.
The boy retired at ten o'clock, and Mr. Porter with him. Soon Robert was sound asleep.
The Germans had gone to bed early, and both were in the land of dreams and snoring lustily when Jean Le Fevre and Hammerditch stole up to the door of stateroom 45.
"This is the one," whispered the French Canadian. "I was lucky to get the pincers, hey?"
"Hush, make no noise, the boy may be awake," said the Englishman, warningly.
While Hammerditch stood on guard Le Fevre inserted a small pincers in the key-hole of the door and managed to turn the key, which was stuck in from the other side.
Then the Frenchman opened the door several inches.
"Ha! he is snoring loudly—he is fast asleep," he thought, not noticing that two persons were in the stateroom instead of one, for the German in the upper berth happened just then to be silent.
In the dim light the French Canadian made out a valise standing on the floor and grabbed it hastily. Then he came away, shutting the door behind him.
"I haf eet!" he whispered. "Come!" And he almost ran for the stateroom assigned to him and Hammerditch. Once inside, the pair secured the door and then turned up the light.
"It's a mighty rusty-looking bag," was the Englishman's comment. "Have you got the key?"
"It ees in ze lock," answered La Fevre.
Soon the valise was opened, and out tumbled a few articles of dirty underwear and a pair of embroidered slippers.
"I don't see any map!" exclaimed Hammerditch, in disgust.
"'Tis ze wrong bag!" groaned the French Canadian. "See, ze clothing is too big for a boy, and so are ze slippers."
"You've made a mess of it," answered his companion. "Better take that bag back or there'll be a jolly row all for nothing."
Much crestfallen, Le Fevre took the bag back. On his second visit he saw both Germans, and he retreated even more speedily than he had on his first trip to the stateroom.
"The cake is dough," announced Hammerditch. "But though we are foiled this time, we must get that map away from the boy, no matter at what cost."
