A HIDDEN SAFE DEPOSIT
Upon reaching the New York railway station, Adrian had stopped long
enough to send his mother an explanatory telegram, so that she might
not worry over his sudden disappearance. He had also urged her in it,
to "make a good visit, since he would be at home to look after his
father."
In this new consideration for the feelings of others he was now
thankful that Mrs. Wadislaw was away. "She gets so anxious and
frightened over father's 'spells,' though he always comes out of them
well," he reflected; then did what he remembered to have seen her do
on similar occasions. He helped his father to the lounge, loosened his
collar, bathed his head, and administered a few drops of a restorative
kept near at hand.
In a few moments the banker sat up again and remarked:
"It is queer that no doctor can stop these attacks. I never quite lose
consciousness, or rather I seem to be somebody else. I have an impulse
to do things I would not do at other times--yet what these things are
I do not clearly remember when the attack passes. But I always feel
better for some days after them. For that reason I do not dread them
as I would, otherwise. Strange, that a man has to lose his senses in
order to regain them! A paradox, but a fact."
"Do you have them as often as formerly?"
"Oftener, I think. They are irregular. I may feel one coming on again
within a few hours or it may not be for weeks. The trouble is that I
may be stricken some time more severely and fall senseless in some
unsafe place."
"Don't fear about that, father. I am at home again, you know, and
shall keep you well in sight. If you would only give up business and
go away to Europe, or somewhere. Take a long rest. You might recover
entirely then and enjoy a ripe old age."
"I can't afford it, lad. If those stolen bonds--but what's the use of
recalling them? Your talk has brought my loss so freshly before me. I
wish you hadn't asked me about it. However, it's done, and it's late.
Let's get to bed. I must be early at the bank, to-morrow. The builders
are coming to look things over and estimate on the cost of safe
deposit vaults in the basement. Ours is one of the oldest buildings in
the city and every inch of space has increased in value since it was
put up. The waste room of that basement should bring us in a princely
income, if the inspector will give the permit to construct the vaults.
My head must be clear in the morning, if ever, and I must rest now.
Good-night."
Adrian saw his father to his room and sought his own, resolving to be
present at the next day's interview with the builders, and to give
the banker his own most watchful care. But his thoughts soon returned
to the startling knowledge he had gained concerning Margot's history,
and when he fell asleep, at last, it was to dream of a prison on an
island, of his mother in a cell, and other most distressing scenes. So
that he awoke unrefreshed, and in greater perplexity than ever as to
how he could find Margot or be of any help to Number 526.
But Mr. Wadislaw seemed brighter than usual, and was almost jovial in
his discussion of the proposed alterations of his property.
"You will be a rich man, Adrian, a very rich man, as I figure it.
Money is the main thing. Get money and--and--keep it;" he added with a
cautious glance around the breakfast room.
But there was nobody except the old butler to hear this worldly advice
and he had always been hearing it. Adrian, to whom it was given, heard
it not at all. He was thinking of his island friends and wondering how
he should find them. However, when they reached the bank, he rallied
his wandering thoughts and gave strict attention to the talk between
the banker and the builders, trying to impress upon his mind the dry
facts and figures which meant so much to them.
"You say that this wall will have to be torn down. To reach bottom
rock. Why, sir, that wall has stood--Adrian, what is that racket in
the outer office? Stop it. The porter should not allow---- But, sir,
that wall is as thick as the safe built into it. I mean----"
Mr. Wadislaw passed his hand across his forehead and Adrian, seeing
this familiar sign of impending trouble, felt that his place was at
his father's side rather than in quelling that slight disturbance in
the adjoining room. He took his stand behind the banker's chair and
rested his hand upon it.
Mr. Wadislaw cast a hurried, appealing glance upward, and the son
smiled and nodded. The contractor moved about the place, tapping the
walls, the floor, and the great chimney beside the safe; pausing at
this spot and listening, tapping afresh, listening again, with a
marked interest growing in his face.
But nobody noticed this, for, suddenly, the door slid open and there
stood in the aperture a girl with wonderful, flowing hair and a face
strangely stern and defiant.
"Margot!"
But it was not at Adrian she looked. At last she was in the presence
of the man who had ruined her father. And--he knew her! Aye, knew her,
though they two had never met before and, as yet, she had spoken no
accusing word. For he had sunk back in his seat, his face white, his
eyes staring, his jaw dropped. To him she was an apparition, one risen
from the dead to confront him with the darkest hour of all his past,
when a broken-hearted wife had kneeled to him, begging her husband's
life. Yet it was broad daylight and he wide awake.
"Are you Malachi Wadislaw?"
"I--I--thought you were dead!"
"No, not dead. Alive and come at last to make you right the wrong you
did my father. To make you open his prison doors and set him free."
"Are you Philip Romeyn's wife? Her hair--his eyes--I--I--am
confused--Adrian!"
"Yes, father. I am here. Margot!"
Her glance passed from the father to the son but there was no
relenting kindness in it. When the young suffer it is profoundly, and
the inmost depths of Margot's nature were stirred by this first sight
of her father's enemy.
"Philip Romeyn's wife lies in the grave, whither your persecution sent
her. I am her daughter and his, come to make you do a tardy justice.
To make you lead me to the place where you have hidden the bonds, the
gold, you said he stole! For if stealing was done it was by your own
hands, not his."
"Margot--MARGOT! This is my father!" cried Adrian, aghast.
"Yes, Adrian, and my father--my father--wears a convict's garb this
day because of yours!"
"No, no! No, no. I tried to save him, but he would not save himself! I
begged him, almost on my knees I begged him, the little shaver, to
confess and get the benefit of that. But he would not. There was no
hope for him from the beginning. None. They found me all but dead. The
money gone. He by me, the steel rod in his hand with which we used to
fasten the--that very safe. I---- Why, I can see it all as if it were
to-day, even though they lifted me for dead, and found him standing,
dazed and speechless. When they questioned him about the money he
said: 'Ask Malachi Wadislaw. I never touched it.' That was all. But
they proved it against him. I was dead--almost--and I was beggared.
Beggared!" his voice rose to a scream, "by that brave little shaver
who had once--once saved my life. Robbed and murdered--his benefactor,
who had made him rich and prosperous. Should he not suffer? Aye,
forever!"
The silence that followed this speech was intense. The builder ceased
his inquisitive tapping and listened spellbound. Old Joe stood rigidly
behind the girl whom he had followed. Adrian scarcely breathed.
Accused and accuser faced one another, motionless.
Then: "Where--was--it?" demanded Margot. "Show me--the place."
"Here. Here, in this very sanctum to which nobody had the entrance but
us two. There--is the monster safe that was robbed. With such another
rod of steel"--he pointed to a bar resting above the safe--"was I
struck--here." His hand touched for an instant a deep scar on his
temple and an involuntary shudder passed over the girl's frame.
But her face did not change nor the defiance of her eyes grow less.
She moved a step forward, and, as if to make way for her, the builder,
also, stepped aside. As he did so his hammer caught upon the little
ledge of the chimney projection which he had been testing and whose
hollow sound had aroused his curiosity. The small slab of marble
slipped and fell, though it had seemingly been securely plastered in
the wall. It left an aperture of a few inches, and the contractor
ejaculated:
"Pshaw! That's queer. Must have been loose, I never saw just such a
hole in such a place. I'm sorry, sir, yet----" He turned to address
the banker but paused, amazed. What had he done?
The effect of that trivial accident upon the owner of the building was
marvelous. He sprang to his feet, clasped his head with his hands, and
gazed upon that tiny opening with the fascination of horror. For a
moment it seemed as if his staring eyes would start from their sockets
and he gasped in his effort to breathe.
"Father! What is it? What ails you?"
But the distraught man tossed off his son's arm like one who needed
no support, and to whom each second of delay was unendurable.
"Look, look! What they told me--I believed--look, look!" then he
swayed and Adrian caught him.
But Margot's anxious love leaped to a swift comprehension of what
merely amazed the others.
"That hole! The bonds--the bonds are in that hole! That's what he
means. Look, look!"
Incredulous, but impelled by her insistence, the builder peered into
the opening. It was too small to admit his head and his gaze could
pass no further than its opposite side.
"There's nothing there, miss, but a hole, as he said."
She tossed him aside, not noticing, and thrust her arm down as far as
it would reach.
"A stick, a string, something--quick! It is deep."
Nobody moved, till she turned upon the Indian.
"For the master, Joe! a string and a weight. Quick, quick!"
The empty-handed son of the forest was the man who filled her need. A
new, well-leaded fishing line that had caught his fancy, passing down
the street, came from his pocket. She seized, uncoiled, and dropped it
down the hole.
"Oh! it is so deep. But we must get to the bottom. We must, even if I
tear that wall down with my own hands. You'll help me, Joe, dear Joe,
won't you? For the master?"
He moved forward, instantly, but Adrian interposed. He was colorless
with excitement yet his voice had the ring of hope and expectation, as
he bent and looked into Malachi Wadislaw's eyes.
"Is she right, father? Do you hear me? Is there anything in that small
place?"
"I remember--I remember. The bonds. The bonds are safe. Always--always
keep your money in a hidden----"
"God forbid!" groaned the lad. Then to the builder, "Get your men.
Tear down that wall. Quick. A man's life is at stake, or more than
life--his honor."
The contractor hesitated, then remarked:
"Well, it won't weaken the building, as I see; and we had decided on
the work. It would have to come down anyway."
He stepped to the street and summoned a waiting workman. They were
skilled and labored rapidly, with little scattering of dust or mortar,
though Margot would not move aside even from that, but gave them room
for working only, standing with gaze riveted on that deepening shaft.
A mere shell of single bricks, plastered and painted as the remaining
wall, had hidden it; and its depth was little below the thick-beamed
floor.
At last the workman stood up.
"I think I see the bottom, sir, and there seems to be stuff in it.
Would you like to feel, young man?"
"No, no! I! It is I--to me the right--to find them!" cried Margot,
flinging herself between, and downward on the floor.
[Illustration: SHE STOOPED AND FLUNG THEM OUT]
"But, Margot, little girl, don't be so sure. It's scarcely
probable----" began Adrian, compassionately, shrinking from sight of
her bitter disappointment, should disappointment come. Alas! it would
be almost as great to him, and whether a glad or sorry one he could
not yet realize.
"His face! Look at your father's face. That tells the story. The bonds
are there, and 'tis Philip Romeyn's daughter shall bring them to the
light."
Indeed, the banker's expression confirmed her faith. Its frenzied
eagerness had given place to a satisfied expectation, and a normal
color tinged his cheeks. But he still watched intently, saying
nothing.
"Catch them, Adrian, catch them! But hold them fast, the horrible,
accursed things!"
One after one, stooping, the exultant daughter lifted and flung them
out. The folded papers seemingly so worthless but of such value;
the little canvas bags of gold; the precious documents and vouchers,
hidden from all other men by one unhappy man, in his miserly
aberration. The price of fifteen years of agony and shame. Now,
fifteen years to be forgotten, and honor restored.
In that far past Philip Romeyn's story had been simple and it had been
true. He had been unaccountably anxious and had risen in the night and
gone to the bank. He believed that the safe had not been locked,
though he had been assured it should be by Mr. Wadislaw, the only
other person who had a key to it. To his surprise he had found the
banker in his office, but in dire mishap. He was lying on the floor,
unconscious, bleeding from a wound upon his temple. The safe was open,
empty. The steel bar which, at night, was padlocked upon it for extra
security lay on the floor, beside the senseless man. Mr. Romeyn had
picked this up and was standing with it in his hand, horrified and
half-stupefied by the shocking affair, when the watchman, discovering
light and noise, had entered and found them. It was his hasty,
accusing voice which started the cry of robbery and murder; and the
circumstances had seemed so aggravated, the circumstantial evidence so
strong, that the judge had imposed the heaviest penalty within his
power. The hypothesis that Mr. Wadislaw had himself put the contents
of the safe away, had even perverted them to his own use; and that he
had injured himself by falling against the sharp corner of the safe's
heavy and open door, had been set aside as too trivial for
consideration.
The hypothesis had been correct, the circumstantial evidence
incorrect; yet in the name of justice, the latter had prevailed.
"Count them! have you counted them, Adrian?"
"Yes, Margot. It is all here. The very sum of which I have so often
heard. Thank God, that it is found!"
"My father! Come, Joe, we're going to my father."
"And I go with you. In my father's name and to begin his lifelong
reparation."