Two Claimants
Dan was midway through breakfast the next morning when the telephone
rang.
“Will you answer it, please?” his mother called from the kitchen where
she was frying ham.
Absently, Dan reached for the instrument which was tucked into a shelf
nook beside the breakfast table.
“Hello,” he half-mumbled, his mouth filled with toast.
“Is that you, Dan?” asked a familiar voice.
Dan came to life then, for it was Sam Hatfield at the other end of the
line. Something must be up, else the Cub leader wouldn’t call him so
early in the morning! Like as not the police were wanting to question him
about the money box.
“Dan, can you come over right away?” Mr. Hatfield asked.
“Why, sure. That is, I guess so, unless Mom’s got work lined up for me.
Anything wrong?”
Dan was certain from Mr. Hatfield’s tone that something urgent had come
up. More than ever, he was convinced the matter concerned the money box.
“Well, yes, I am a little disturbed,” the Cub leader answered his
question. “I’m asking all the boys to come over to my place as soon as
possible.”
“The money box hasn’t been taken?”
“Oh, no! Nothing like that Dan. Just come over as soon as you can.”
Completely mystified, Dan bolted the remainder of his breakfast.
Fifteen minutes later he presented himself at the Hatfield home where
Chips and Red already had gathered.
“What’s up?” Dan asked the pair.
“Search me,” Chips shrugged. “Mr. Hatfield asked us to come over right
away, so we did.”
“He hasn’t explained yet,” Red added in an undertone, “but he seems
plenty worried.”
In a few minutes Babe Bunning arrived at the house. Close upon his heels
came Brad, who reported that Midge Holloway would be a little late.
“He told me to report he has to do some work at home,” the Den Chief told
Mr. Hatfield.
“We’ll go on without him,” the Cub leader said. “Boys, now don’t get me
wrong. I didn’t call you here to make accusations or scold. I’m not
blaming anyone—”
“What’s wrong, Mr. Hatfield?” Brad cut in anxiously.
“Well, somehow the news leaked out about us finding the money box.”
The Cubs were dumbfounded.
“Then someone must have babbled!” Chips exclaimed. “It sure wasn’t me!”
“Or me,” echoed Red.
“I can’t understand how anyone would blab the secret,” said Brad slowly.
“Every Cub has real ideals or he wouldn’t be in the organization. Cubs
are Square—they keep their promises. And we all promised not to mention
the box until after you had time to talk to the police about it.”
“That’s right,” Mr. Hatfield agreed. “You put it well, Brad. I can’t
believe, either, that anyone would tell—at least not intentionally.”
“How do you know the information got out?” Dan asked thoughtfully.
“Through a visitor. I was eating breakfast this morning when Everett
Wilson, owner of the Elite Dry Cleaning Co., came to the door. He’s not a
member of the church, but does attend irregularly. Any of you fellows
know him?”
All of the Cubs except Babe shook their heads.
“I know him when I see him,” Babe said. “We take our dry cleaning to his
place. We’re quitting though. Last time my Dad left a pair of trousers
there, he shrunk ’em an inch and wouldn’t make good.”
“You say Mr. Wilson heard about us finding the money box?” Dan asked the
Cub leader.
“It’s worse than that. He not only heard about it, but he’s put in a
claim for the money.”
“But how did he happen to hide it in the coal bin?” Dan demanded in
perplexity.
“That’s what I asked him. He didn’t have a very satisfactory answer.
Furthermore, he wasn’t able to tell me how much he had in the box.”
“Then maybe it wasn’t his!” Chips exclaimed.
“I thought of that right away, Chips. I had a feeling that perhaps he was
putting in a false claim. At any rate, I refused to turn the money over
to him.”
“Have you called the police yet?” Dan questioned.
“Yes, I telephoned the station immediately after Mr. Wilson was here. A
man is on his way out now. I’ll turn the money over when he comes, and be
glad to get rid of it.”
“It’s sure funny about Mr. Wilson claiming the cash,” Dan remarked. “How
could he have known about us finding the box?”
“Someone must have told,” Chips replied before the Cub leader could
speak.
His gaze fastened hard upon Babe, who unconcernedly was chewing a
gumdrop.
The other Cubs looked at Babe too. He had been in the Den only a few
weeks and as yet hadn’t been promoted from a Bobcat to a Wolf.
True, he had repeated the Cub Promise: “I promise to do my best, to be
SQUARE, and OBEY the law of the Cub Pack.”
Also, he had learned the Cub sign and the handclasp, the salute and the
Law of the Cub Pack. At least, he had said the words correctly. But had
they really burned in?
“Babe, did you tell anyone about the money box?” Chips demanded bluntly.
Babe swallowed the gumdrop and stared. “Who, me?” he asked.
“Yes, you! You’re the only one who knew Mr. Wilson.”
“I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone!” Babe’s blue eyes flashed
angrily.
“Never mind, Chips,” Mr. Hatfield said. His tone made it clear that the
discussion must end. “We’re not accusing anyone. A Cub’s word is good
enough for me.”
“Remember that face at the window?” Dan reminded the group. “Someone saw
us looking at the money. Maybe that’s how the story got out!”
“It’s very possible, Dan,” agreed Mr. Hatfield. “Anyway, it’s a relief to
know that the Cubs all kept their promises. If Mr. Wilson can establish
his claim, he’s welcome to the money.”
“He must have been dizzy to hide the box in a coal bin,” Brad said,
getting up from the davenport. “It doesn’t make sense to me.”
Mr. Hatfield told the Cubs that he considered it most important that no
one reveal the exact amount of cash that had been found.
“Brad, Dan, Fred and myself are the only ones who know the correct
total,” he said. “But the rest of you have a pretty fair idea. The thing
is—keep it to yourselves. If the amount should become known, well, it
might make it easier for Mr. Wilson to prove a claim.”
“You can depend on us, Mr. Hatfield,” Brad said, speaking for the others.
“How about you, Babe?”
“Oh, sure,” the youngest member of the Den returned carelessly. “I forget
now how much it was we counted at the church.”
“Midge isn’t here, but I’ll stop at his house and warn him,” Dan offered.
The matter of the cash box having been thoroughly discussed, Mr. Hatfield
told the boys his real purpose in calling them was to remind them to
start working on the church building fund pledge cards.
“Call on your prospects as soon as you can,” he advised. “Today if
possible. We want to get that money rolling in.”
“What about our plans for the Crusade?” Brad reminded him.
“You’ll hear more about that at our next meeting,” Mr. Hatfield promised.
“Meanwhile, dig up anything you can for costumes.”
“I have an idea—” Dan began.
What it was no one learned, for just then the front doorbell rang.
“That must be Midge,” Brad said. “Or maybe the police.”
But it was neither.
Instead, when Mr. Hatfield went to the door he found Edgar Brakschmidt
standing there, hat in hand.
The Cub leader knew the man only slightly, having seen him occasionally
at church services.
“I beg your pardon—you’re Mr. Hatfield,” the visitor asked.
“Yes, I am.” The Cub leader moved aside so that the man might enter.
“Come on in. We’re having a Cub meeting.”
“Oh, I don’t want to break it up,” the visitor apologized. “Nevertheless,
the matter I came to talk about happens to concern the Cubs.” Mr.
Brakschmidt laughed self-consciously.
“They haven’t been in any mischief, I trust.”
“Oh, no! Nothing like that. May I speak with you in private, Mr.
Hatfield?”
“We can go into the study if you like. However, if the matter concerns
the Cubs, why not tell them about it also?”
“Well—all right, I may as well come right out with it. I lost some money
recently—a rather large sum. Information has come to me that this money
contained in a metal box, was found at the church by one of the Cubs.”
The boys were listening intently, amazed expressions mirrored on their
faces. First Mr. Wilson, and now a second claimant!
“How much did you lose, Mr. Brakschmidt?” the Cub leader asked.
“I can’t rightly say. For months I had been saving it. The amount was
considerable.”
“And where was this money lost, Mr. Brakschmidt?”
“Why, in the church. I—I went in there a few days ago—day before
yesterday to be exact—to see the pastor. I was taking the money with me
to deposit in the bank. The minister wasn’t there. I must have put the
box down and forgot it, because I didn’t discover my loss until later.”
“Really, Mr. Brakschmidt, I never knew you to be so careless with money,”
remarked the Cub leader. “Where did you think you left the box?”
“In one of the seats,” the visitor replied after a slight hesitation.
“That wasn’t where we found the box!” Chips exclaimed. “Dan found it—”
Brad gave him a kick in the ankle, a warning not to tell everything he
knew.
“May I ask how you learned that the Cubs had come upon a box of money?”
Mr. Hatfield inquired.
“Why, the news is everywhere.”
Brad was disgusted. So were the other Cubs, who couldn’t imagine how the
word had spread.
“Babe, ’fess up,” Red whispered in the younger boy’s ear. “Did you spill
it?”
“I did not,” he retorted indignantly. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”
“Midge wouldn’t tell,” Red said. “All the other Cubs have given their
word. It’s mighty funny—”
Mr. Hatfield was speaking again. “Since the news is everywhere as you
say, Mr. Brakschmidt, I may as well admit that the Cubs did find a little
money. We expect to turn it over to police. If you have any claim, you’ll
have to take it up with them.”
“You still have the money here in the house?”
“Yes,” the Cub leader admitted reluctantly.
“Then why put me to the trouble of having to go through the police and
perhaps the courts to prove my claim? The money is mine. If you return it
to me, I’ll give the Cubs a suitable reward, a very generous one in
fact.”
Mr. Hatfield had begun to lose patience.
“I am sorry, Mr. Brakschmidt,” he said. “You’ll have to take the matter
up with police.”
Mr. Brakschmidt argued for a while longer. Then, convinced that he was
making no headway, he rather angrily departed.
“That’s the limit!” Fred sputtered. “Two claimants for the money. What
did you think of him, Dad?”
“I barely know either Mr. Brakschmidt or Mr. Wilson,” his father replied.
“Obviously, both can’t own the money. Before the real owner of that box
is found, I’m afraid we’re in for an unpleasant time.”