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Five Hundred Dollars; or, Jacob Marlowe's Secret, a novel by Horatio Alger |
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Chapter 16. What Became Of The Stolen Note |
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_ CHAPTER XVI. WHAT BECAME OF THE STOLEN NOTE Among the attentive listeners at Bert's trial was a tall young man with light hair and pallid complexion, upon whose thin face there played a shrewd smile. He seemed unusually interested, as was indeed the case, for he strongly suspected that he knew who was the actual purloiner of the stolen twenty-dollar bill. It is hardly necessary to say that the young man was Percy's friend, Reginald Ward. When the landlord gave his testimony, he was no longer in doubt, for he had himself noticed the letters I. W. on the back of the bank-bill. As he left the court-room, he saw Percy lingering near the door. "Come with me, Percy," he said, linking his arm with that of the boy. "I have something to say to you." "I have an engagement," pleaded Percy, trying to release himself. "I will call round this afternoon." "I can't wait till afternoon," said Reginald decidedly. "I must speak to you now on a matter of importance." "How did the trial come out?" "The boy was acquitted." "I thought he would be." "Why?" asked Reginald Ward, eyeing Percy curiously. "Because I don't think he would steal." "Is he a friend of yours?" "No; he is only a working boy." "Still you think he is honest?" "Oh, yes." "How then do you account for the bill's being stolen?" Percy shrugged his shoulders. "I don't feel sure that any bill was stolen," he said. "I don't think much of old Jones. I dare say he made up the story." "That is hardly likely. What object could he have?" "He wanted to get hold of Bert Barton's bill. Where did Bert get it from? Did he say?" "He said it was left in an envelope by some old uncle of his." "Uncle Jacob?" "Yes; I think that was the name." "I didn't think the old man had so much money to spare." "You seem to know him then?" "I have heard of him." By this time they had reached the hotel, and Reginald asked Percy to come up to his room. "What was it you wanted to speak to me about?" asked Percy, as he took a seat at the window. "I wanted to tell you that the stolen bill came from Mr. Holbrook. Mr. Jones testified to this effect, and Mr. Holbrook also." "Well, what of that?" "Mr. Holbrook described the bill and stated that the letters I. W. were written in red ink on the reverse side." Percy began to see the point, and waited anxiously for Reginald to continue. Ward drew from his pocket the twenty-dollar bill, and held it up to open view. "This is the bill you paid me last evening," he said. "You will observe the letters I. W. as described by the landlord. Now, where did you get this bill?" he asked searchingly. Drops of perspiration stood on Percy's forehead, and he hesitated to reply. Finally an inspiration came to him, and he said, "I picked it up in the street, near the grocery store. The thief must have dropped it." "You didn't tell me that when you paid it to me." "No, I didn't think it necessary. I was anxious to get out of debt to you." "Percy Marlowe, that statement of yours won't pass muster. Weren't you in the grocery store last evening?" "No--yes," stammered Percy. "And you saw this bill on Mr. Jones's desk--yes or no?" "I don't see what right you have to question me," said Percy sullenly. "Because you have paid me stolen money, and if I keep it I am likely to get into trouble. Indeed, I came very near it this morning. I was on the point of paying it to Mr. Holbrook for my board. You can imagine that he would have recognized it at once." "I don't see as you are to blame." "No, I am not; but if the bill were known to be in my possession, the only thing I could do would be to state from whom I received it." "You wouldn't do that!" said Percy, in alarm. "I should have to. But I don't mean to run the risk. I will give you back the bill, and you must return me the ten dollars I gave you in change." "But what can I do with the bill?" "That is your lookout. Of course you will still owe me ten dollars." Reluctantly Percy drew out the ten dollars he had received in change, not having yet spent any of it, and Reginald Ward gave him back the unlucky bill. Percy thrust it quickly into his vest pocket. "Now, Percy," said Reginald, "let me advise you as a friend to get that bill out of your possession as soon as possible. If it is traced to you, you will get into hot water." "I can't pass it here." "You have no right to pass it anywhere." "You could pass it in New York." Reginald Ward considered a moment, but shook his head. "No, it would be too dangerous," he said. "It might be traced to me, and it would be known that I have been in Lakeville. I should have to expose you to screen myself." "Then what would you advise me to do?" "Get it back to Mr. Jones in some way. Here, take an envelope, inclose the bill, and mark the grocer's name on it. Then drop it somewhere, and the thing will be done; Jones will be happy and you will be safe." "All right!" Percy followed Reginald's advice, and then put the letter in his pocket. "When are you going back to New York?" he asked. "To-morrow. I will leave you my address, and hope you will have the honesty to pay me what you owe me as soon as possible." "Yes, I will, but I am afraid that won't be soon." "You ought to make an effort to pay me." "It isn't as if I really owed it to you. It is money I have lost at cards." "If you are a boy of honor," said Reginald impressively, "you will feel that such debts ought to be paid above all others." "Why should they?" asked Percy, and there will be many others who will be disposed to echo the question. "Why should gambling debts take precedence of honest obligations?" It is not necessary to repeat Reginald's explanation, as it was shallow and sophistical. Two hours later Sam Doyle, a young Irish boy, espied, under a bush by the roadside, what seemed to be a letter. He picked it up, and, though his education was by no means extensive, he made out the name of Mr. Jones. "Shure Mr. Jones must have dropped it out of his pocket," he said. "I'll carry it to him." He entered the store, and attracted the attention of the grocer, who was behind the counter, and in a bad humor, smarting still from his loss of twenty dollars. "Clear out, you Sam Doyle!" he said, "unless you want to buy something. I don't want any boys loafing round my store." "Is this your envelope, Mr. Jones?" asked Sam, producing the envelope. "Give it to me." Mr. Jones read his name on the envelope in some wonder and tore it open. What was his amazement and delight when he saw the lost bill! "Where did you get this, Sam?" he asked. "I found it under a bush by the side of the road, near the blacksmith's shop." "When?" "Shure it wasn't more'n five minutes." "Do you know what was in the envelope?" "No." "You are sure no one gave you the letter to hand to me?" said the grocer, with a searching glance. "Shure, I found it." "Well, I'm glad to get it. You are a good boy to bring it to me. Here's ten cents." Sam took the money, as much surprised as pleased, for the grocer was considered, and justly, a very mean man. "Thank you, Mr. Jones," he said. "You are sure that Bert Barton didn't give you the letter?" "Yes, sir. I haven't seen Bert since mornin'." "Did you see any other boy near?" "Yes, sir, I saw Percy Marlowe." "Did he speak to you?" "Yes, sir; he asked me what I'd got in my hand." "What did you say?" "I showed him the letter." "Did he say anything to you then?" "He told me it was for you, and he said I'd better take it right over to your store." "He gave you good advice. Wait a minute, and I'll do up a pound of sugar and send it to your mother as a present." "What's come to the old man?" thought Sam. "Shure he's gettin' generous in his old age!" "I wish I knew who took that bill," thought the grocer meditatively. "However I've got it back, and that's the main thing." When Percy dropped the envelope, he remained near at hand, and seeing Sam pick it up, instructed him to carry it to the grocer. He then breathed a sigh of relief, and felt that he was lucky to get out of a bad scrape so safely. _ |
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