Beadle's Half Dime Library, No. 655 — page 6: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

Plucky Paul, the Boy Speculator. Roger did up his case, and turned to go. * Yow ldo, my boy,” said Mr. Burnaud, with a sudden change from his business-like tone. ‘‘ I can see that you are abornsalesman. You'll find allsorts of people, and will have to handle them inalisorts of ways. But you can do it. That position in my store is no longer open.” ‘“* Pd take it,”answered Roger quietly. ‘* Only I'm going for Simon Slink. It isn’t money I want as much as I do satisfaction. The old miser bundled my mother into the street, with- out pity or mercy. Just wait! I won’t forget what I owe him!” Yet he drove this shadow of revenge out of sight as he plunged again into business. Be- fore night he had been in at least a hundred places of business. In some of them he was treated rudely,in some politely, and not one person out of twenty was ready to buy. But his last week’s experience at peddling had taught him that it was no rose-water busi- ness. If he was going to be depressed by a re- buff he might as well give up at once. But Roger was not of that sort. He had made up his mind to let nothing check him, and be- fore night, by dint of abundant talk, he had taken orders for three dozen shirts. By the end of the week he had sold and deliv- ered eight dozen, at a profit of twenty-five cents each, and was just twenty-four dollars richer. ‘*Shirts pay, mother,” he said, on countin out his fund before Mrs. Wil on’s delightec eyes. ‘‘They do very well for a beginning, but I haven’t hit the mark yet. There’s bigger chances inthe market than peddling, and |’m bound to go for them. Just wait till | get a solid capital. And, mind you, ’m not going to forget Simon Slink. It was very dark that day he turned us into the street,mother. But the sun is beginning to shine.” CHAPTER V, THE MYSTERY OF THE DESK. A MONTH had passed since Roger Wilton went out to seek his fortune. Yet in that month he seemed to have grown ten years older. This sharp-eyed, clear-spoken, earnest and energetic fellow could not have been recognized for the heedless school-boy of a few months Before. Then, partly spoiled hy his education, he had about made up his mind tv be a gentleman, Now he was a man of business, from the heart to the fingers’ ends. It was that one eventful minute in his life, in which he had seen hismother seated sadly amid her discarded furniture, and the heartless land- ford insulting her, that had wroughtthischange. It had given him a strong motive inlife. It was not a very nobie sentiment, the thirst for revenge. And yet noson had sounder reasons for it. ‘*T tell you ['m going to get rich, mother,” he said, positively. ‘I know 1 ain’t getting along very fast, but just wait. Anyhow I’ve got twenty dollars, and ve paid everything, rent and all. And I’ve paid Mr. Burnaud the money he lent you.” ‘* You have, Roger?” exclaimed Mrs. Wilton, with a show of great relief. *» He didn’t want to take it, but I made him,” answered the independent boy. ‘‘1 thought, somehow, you’d sooner not owe him.” ‘That is right, my son; I don’t want to owe anybody.” ‘There is only one debt left. wait till I get some more casb.” ‘What debt is that?” asked Mrs. Wilton, in surprise. ‘*We owe Simon Slink two weeks’ rent. I am going to pay that next.” - Pay that?” she cried, indignantly. ‘‘ Don’t outhink of such a thing! What, after the way e treated us? Id put him upwith paying him, the grasping old rascal!” ‘* We owe him, and he’s got to be paid,’ re- oined Roger, with a peculiar smile, ‘‘ I believe making asquare beginning. I don’t want old Slink, the day I bring him down to his marrow- bones, to throw in my teeth that we cheated him out of two weeks’ rent, I’m proud enough to want to begin with a clean record.” ** Dear me, you are not still harping on that notion? I wish you’d forget all about Simon Slink. He can’t do us any more harm now. Leave him to his own conscience.” ‘* He hasn’t any,” answered Roger, positively. **T ain’t going to forget, mother, that after we paid him rent for ten years, and after father worked for him that long at low wages, he set us out of doors for two weeks’ rent. And what is more he wouldn’t give you an hour’s ce. When I came back from Mr. Burnaud I found And that can | you sitting out in the cold, and the rain ready to fall,and that old villain glowering over you. Don’t ask me to forget. I’d have to die first.” ‘**T wouldn’t feel it so bad only for one thing,” replied Mrs. Wilton. ‘* He did insult me shame- fully about your father’s desk. I begged him to let that alone, but he picked it up and flung it into the street so hard that he burst it open. That is one thing I can’t easily forgive.” ‘*Where is that desk?’ asked Roger. ‘I haven’t seen it since we’ve been here,” ‘1 putit away until it could be mended,” re- joined Mrs. Wilton. ‘‘ Here it is, Roger.” She unlocked a bureau drawer, and drew out the desk on which she set such store. It wasa handsomely-carved walnut writing- desk, inlaid with some rich foreign wood. it still gaped slightly at the bottom, where it had cracked open under Simon Slink’s rough treat. ment. The corner of a folded white paper slightly protruded at the crack. ‘‘Are those papers of any value?” asked Roger. ‘*Oh, no! They are mostly old bills and re- ceipts, and some of your father’s business con- tracts. I will show you them, sirce you are now becoming the head of the family.” She smiled fondly on her son as she inserted the key, and opened the desk. ** You see,” she remarked, thrusting in her hand, and lifting a loose bundle of papers. Roger looked carelessly on, with no great show of interest in the matter. But suddenly he started, and a look of sur- prise came on his face. He quickly drew out the few papers which remained in the bottom of the desk. ‘*] don’t understand that,” he exclaimed, in a puzzled tone. ‘“‘ That is certainly very queer.” ‘*What do you mean, Roger?’ demanded his mother, in astonishment. ‘Why, don’t you see? The desk is empty, and yet that paper is still there at the crack. How did it get there? There is nothing inside, Has the desk a false bottom?” ‘* Nonsense, no! I never heard of such a thing.” ‘Papers don’t come out of solid wood,” an- swered the boy. ‘* There’s something here wants looking into. Who knows but what our fortune is hidden in this desk?” He took hold of the protruding corner of the paper, and tried to pull it out. But the crack was not wide enough to let it come. ‘* Not much of a fortune, I fancy,” laughed Mrs. Wilton. ‘‘ My husband had no gold-mine stock. Yetyou have certainly roused my curi- osity.” While she spoke Roger was peering into the desk, The bottom was smooth and polished, with nothing to indicate that it was movable. He tapped and pressed it at various points, but it failed to yield. The youthful investigator was growing deep- ly interested. He opened the large blade of his pocket-knife and inserted it at the crack. “ There is a hollow plane there, anyhow,” he muttered. He peees upward, The blade came against something solid, but there was no yielding. ‘** Look underneath,” suggested Mrs. Wilton, who had grown excited and eager, He did so, turning the box upside down. The bottom was less carefully finished than the other portions. Yet it was sound and solid, ex- cept a minute crack near one side, ardly knowing why he did so, Roger insert- ed the fine point of his knife-blade into this crack and pushed it upward. There followed a faint click, that sounded re- markably loud to his strained ears, Something seemed to give way. Cautiously turning the desk right-side up he saw that the seeming bot- tom had moved and slipped down at one side, pon was a crack between it and the side of the Ox, By using the flat blade of a table-knife he managed to lift the thin wood, which now read- ily yielded, To Mrs, Wilton’s utter surprise it proved to be indeed a faise bottom, ‘* Well, I never!” she loudly exclaimed, lifting her handsin wonder. ‘‘ And to think that Ja- cob never told me of it! I never had such a start any life! And just look! It is full of rs _ Roger, without speaking, was busily engaged in emptying the desk of these secretly hidden apers. He felt that they must be fmportant to so carefully concealed. ‘“‘This is not paper.” he declared. ‘‘ It is parchment. And people don’t use parchment for trifling matters.” Itis hands involuntarily trembled as he opened the documents, ‘** Last Will and Testamept!” he read. ‘** Deed! Bond and Warrant.’ Good gracious. mother, what does it all mean?” ‘* To think of Jacob hiding those papers, and I never to know of it!” exclaimed Mrs. Wilton, who could not get thisidea out of her head, ‘* Likely he had his reasons,” answered Roger. ** But, that’s not the question now. What are these papers? Whom do they belong to? How came father to have them? It’s the queerest thing out. Why, mother, this will bequeaths a hundred thousand dollars to the infant son of Albert Homer. And these other papers all re- fer to property belonging to Albert Homer. I wish Mr. Purnand was here. He might under- stand them.” | ‘*You have dropped something, Roger,” said Mrs. Wilton, as she stooped to pick up a paper which had fallen to the floor. It proved to be an envelope, addressed ‘‘ To my Wife and Son.” Mrs. Wilton was on the point of tearing it eagerly oo But she hesitated, and her face grew slightly pale. ‘** What can it mean?’’she whispered. ‘‘ I hope my husband has done no wrong deed which he has kept concealedfrom me, You openit, Roger. I am afraid.” er y father never did anything to be ashamed of. Iknow that!” rejoined Roger, ‘‘ He wasn’t that sort.” In a moment he had opened the envelope, and extracted from it a closely-written letter, which bore the same address as the envelope. ** Read it, Roger. Quick! I was never so ex- cited in my life, ~ To think of such a_mystery: and me never to dream of it!” Roger smiled, as he unfolded the letter, He read it with curious interest, which grew more = more eager as he went on. It ran as fol- ows: ‘*T'o My WIFE AND Son: = ‘*To your hands I legve the task which I have died without fulfilling. I have prepared this letter. in case death should overtake me, and my work be unaccomplished, Ihave concealed these papers, and mentioned their existence to nobody. I have even had a false bottom put in my desk, for the oie of securelyconcealingthem, Ihave taken hese precautions, asI know the character of the man with whom I have to deal. Should a word come to his ear that I possess these documents, I would be ruined, He is a ruthless enemy would never forgive me for what I have done ‘“This enemy is Simon Slink, my employe: hate him, though I am obliged to take his money it wages. He has made my life a bitter one, and I would give years of it forrevenge on this soulless knave. Let me once find Edward Homer, the mys- terious owner Of the property here represented. and I will gain retribution for my many wrongs. ‘*Tf [should die before my quest is accomplished I leave this task to you, my wife and son. And first, to advise you how I became possessed of these important documents. It was done by rescuing them from the flames, to which Simon Slink had devotedthem. Lhad beenabsent onan errand. I entered the office on my return. It was empty. Butin the stove was a heap of papers which were burning They had been thrust in and set on fire, and the old villain had been called out before they were half burnt. ‘**[T had long been doubtful of his practices, and I quickly rescued from the stove this bundle of pa- pers, which were tied up together. Before I could look further [ heard his steps approaching, I has- tily withdrew, by another door. I saw him hur- riedly enter and eagerly approach the stove, rub- bing his hands with fiendish glee,as he saw the flames ascending, Butsuddenly his face changed. He poked among the papers. He had missed those I had taken. His cadaverous face grew deathly pale. His eyes protruded with fright. His knees shook with terror. A howl of affright came from his lips. After &@ Moment of stupefaction he ep and rushed to the door by which he had én- tered. ‘*T instantly left the keyhole by which I had heen observing him, and hastened away. _ Fortunately I escaped his observation and got safely away with my prize. It consisted of the documents which are now in your hands, ; ‘‘Tt was @ half-hour before I again entered the office. I was trembling at heart, but steady of face. I think I concealed every trace of inner ex- citement. ‘Simon Slink’s behavior aided me to keep calm. He asked me no questions. Yet he watched me with hawk-like eyes. I could see that he was dreadfully disturbed, though he strove to hide it, It was months before he ceased to watch me with suspicion. I fancy he has had spies on my foot- steps. Yethe has learned nothing. I have been too cautious to becaught. Yet ever since that day the old villain has been like qa man with an ava- lanche impending above him, and threatening to falland crush him. I can see the shadow of terror in his eyes. ‘‘and yetIam utterly in the dark. I have, for the past six_years, made every possible effort to discover the Edward Homer to whom these papers i\ a ‘'s ie te