DIAMOND CUT DIAMOND.
"Your uncle in the city?" said Mr. Ferguson, in surprise.
"Yes, sir. I met him, only a short time since, on Vine street."
"How did you know him?"
"By the scar on his cheek. But I think I would have known him at any
rate. I have a good memory for faces."
"How did he receive you?" asked Mr. Ferguson, with curiosity.
"He didn't seem very glad to see me," answered Gilbert, smiling. "He
insisted that his nephew is dead, and called me an impostor."
"He must have seen the resemblance between you and his brother. You
will make just such a looking man as your father."
"I hope I sha'n't look like my uncle."
"Your father and your uncle did not resemble each other. There might
have been a slight family likeness, but it was very slight."
"So much the better."
"You don't think you shall like your uncle?"
"I am sure I shall not. First, he cheated me out of my property, and
now, because I claim it, he calls me an impostor."
"So that was the way the interview terminated, was it?"
"Not exactly. When I told him I had old Jacob's confession, and
threatened to put it into the hands of a lawyer, he said he would like
to see it, and asked me to call with it at the Burnet House this
afternoon."
"Humph!" said Mr. Ferguson, thoughtfully. "Did you promise to do it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Then I will give you a piece of advice."
"What is it, sir?"
"_Don't carry the original paper with you._"
"Why not, sir?"
"It is best to be on the safe side. Your uncle is an unscrupulous man.
This paper is of the utmost importance to you, since it proves your
identity, and lays bare the conspiracy against you. Just in proportion
as it is valuable to you, it is also valuable to your uncle."
"I understand," said Gilbert, nodding. "You think he has laid a trap
for me, in order to get hold of the paper."
"It looks very much like it. At any rate, it is best to be on your
guard."
"I don't think he would find it easy to get it away from me," said
Gilbert, with the confidence of youth.
"You are too confident, Gilbert. You are but a boy, and he is a strong
man. Besides, he will want to take it in his hands."
"Would you not advise me to carry it then, sir?"
"Not the original. Can you not make a copy of the paper?"
"But I am to call at three."
"You will have time enough. It is not long."
"Then I shall be obliged to neglect my duties here."
"Oh! as to that, in a matter of such importance, I will readily excuse
you. You can go home at once, and get to work."
"Thank you, sir."
Gilbert lost no time in availing himself of the permission accorded to
him. Reaching his boarding-house--the same one to which the reader has
already been introduced--he took the important paper from its secure
resting-place in his trunk, and, seating himself at the table, began to
copy it rapidly. When he first entered Mr. Ferguson's establishment, he
could scarcely write at all; but he knew how important a good
handwriting was, to one who aspired to be a business man, and he
therefore soon commenced taking lessons. Now he was master of a
handsome hand. Jacob, too, was a good writer, with a handwriting quite
similar to his, so that, without any great effort, he succeeded in
producing a document very nearly resembling the original.
"Now, Uncle James, I am ready to meet you," he said to himself, with
satisfaction, as he compared the two papers, and then carefully laid
away the first in its old place of concealment. "You are welcome to
destroy this, if you think it will do you any good."
It was still early, for the paper was not long, and Gilbert decided to
go back to the store, and resume his duties until it should be time to
start for the Burnet House.
"Where have you been, Gilbert?" asked Maurice Walton, crossly.
"I have been home--to my boarding-house."
"I shouldn't think Mr. Ferguson would like your leaving his business to
run home in the middle of the fore-noon."
"He advised me to go."
"I suppose you pretended to have a headache, or something of that
kind," said Maurice, with a sneer.
"No, I didn't. I was never better in my life."
"What did you go for, then?"
"It seems to me you are very curious, Maurice," said Gilbert,
good-naturedly. "If you must know, I went home on a little private
business of my own."
"Very important, I suppose."
"Yes, it was important."
"Mr. Ferguson is very partial to you, that's all I can say. He wouldn't
let me be away for a couple of hours, in the morning, even if I did
have _important_ business."
"I have no doubt he would. I hope you won't be disturbed if I tell you
that I am going out again this afternoon."
"And you get twice as much pay as I," said Maurice, with
dissatisfaction. "I say it's a shame."
"You must remember, Maurice, that I don't fix the salaries. If I could
fix it so, your salary should be raised at once, so as to equal mine."
"It's easy to say that," said Maurice Walton, discontentedly.
Gilbert, in spite of the discontent of his fellow-clerk, took his hat
at half-past two, and left the store. He reached the Burnet House about
ten minutes of three, and went at once to the reading-room, where he
was to meet his uncle.
Mr. Grey was already in waiting. He was seated in an arm-chair, looking
over a file of the New York _Herald_.
"I have come, Mr. Grey," said Gilbert, "as you proposed."
"Humph! Have you the paper?"
"Yes, sir."
Here Mr. Grey showed signs of satisfaction, as Gilbert was
quick-sighted enough to perceive.
"We will go up stairs to my room," said his uncle, rising, and laying
down the paper. "We shall be more private there."
"Perhaps he thinks he can get hold of the paper better," thought our
hero, though, of course, he kept his thought to himself.
"Follow me," said Mr. Grey. "Give me the key to No. 157," he said, to
the hotel clerk.
Gilbert followed him up several flights of stairs till he reached his
room.
"Enter," he said, unlocking the door.
Gilbert did so, feeling, at the same time, a queer sensation, as he
thought of the attempt that might be made at violence. However, he was
not wanting in courage, and did not deign to give audience to fear.
"Sit down," said Mr. Grey, abruptly.
Gilbert seated himself near the door. His uncle drew up a chair for
himself, but, as our hero noted, placed it between him and the door.
"He wants to cut me off from escape," he thought. "Never mind; he'll
let me go when he finds he can't make anything by keeping me."
"Well," said his uncle, when they were seated, "let me know all about
this precious plot you have been hatching."
"I am engaged in no plot, Mr. Grey," said Gilbert, steadily.
"Of course not. Conspirators are the last to admit the real character
of their designs. But that don't alter the fact. You have laid a plot
for getting possession of my property, and, to this end, have forged a
paper, which you think will help you."
"You are quite mistaken, Mr. Grey. I have Jacob Morton's written
confession of his agency in carrying me away from Cincinnati. I knew
nothing of it till he spoke to me on this subject, and placed the paper
in my hands."
"Have you the paper with you?"
Gilbert didn't answer this question, since he could not have said truly
that he had Jacob's confession with him. It was merely his own copy.
But he drew the paper from his breast-pocket, and handed it to his
uncle.
Mr. Grey took the paper, and ran his eye rapidly over it. His
countenance changed, for he saw that it would have great weight in a
court of justice, completely substantiating Gilbert's claims to the
estate which he wrongfully held.
"Well," he said, looking up, after he had finished reading the paper,
"I have read this document, and I have no hesitation in pronouncing it
a vile forgery. It shall meet the fate it merits."
So saying, he hastily tore it across the middle, and proceeded to tear
it into still smaller pieces.
"Now, young man," he said, sarcastically, "as I have no further
business with you, I will bid you a very good-day," and he bowed,
mockingly.
"I think you are mistaken about our business being settled," said
Gilbert, quietly.
"Your forged document will help you little," said Mr. Grey,
triumphantly. "I have torn it into a hundred pieces."
[Illustration: "Your forged document will help you little," said Mr.
Grey, triumphantly. "I have torn it into a hundred pieces."--Page 138.]
"It is of no consequence," said our hero, calmly. "_It is only a copy
of the original paper._"