HOW THE MINIATURES DISAPPEARED
"The miniatures are gone?" came from Ben Basswood in astonishment.
"Yes, Ben, gone!" and the mother wrung her hands in despair.
"Do you mean to say Ward Porton dared to come here and impersonate me
and get them?" cried Dave.
"It must have been that fellow, Dave. He looked exactly like you. That
is why I just asked you if you had been to our house."
"I have been with Ben and the others since we went on our sleigh-ride,"
said our hero. "This is terrible! How did it happen?"
"Come into the house and I'll tell you all about it," answered Mrs.
Basswood. Her face was drawn with anxiety, and all could see that she
was suffering keenly.
"And how is father?" questioned Ben, as the party trooped up the
piazza steps and into the house.
"He isn't so well, Ben, as he was before you went away. Oh, dear! and
to think how easily I was duped!"
Dave had told Washington Bones to wait for them, and, entering the
parlor of the Basswood home, the others listened to what the lady of
the house had to tell.
"Your father had just had another bad turn, and the nurse and I were
doing what we could for him when the door-bell rang," she began. "I
went downstairs, and there stood somebody that I thought was Dave. I
asked him into the house and he at once wanted to know how Mr.
Basswood was getting along."
"When was this?" questioned Ben.
"This was two days ago, and just about noon time."
"Two days ago!" repeated Roger. "Then Porton must have come here right
after leaving the hotel in Lamont. How ever did he get here?"
"Maybe he took that train that got through from Pepsico," answered
Phil. "You remember we heard that quite a few people made that
train."
"Let us hear about the miniatures," broke in Ben, impatiently.
"Well, he came in, as I said, and asked about Mr. Basswood's health.
Then he told me that he was in a great hurry--that a certain famous
art critic had called on Mr. Wadsworth, and, having heard about the
Enos miniatures, was very anxious to see them. He told me that the art
critic had thought of coming over with him, but Mr. Wadsworth had said
that it might disturb Mr. Basswood too much to have the miniatures
examined in our house. The art critic did not want to become snowbound
in Crumville, so he was only going to stay until the four o'clock
afternoon train. The young man said Mr. Wadsworth wanted to know if we
would allow him to take the miniatures over to the Wadsworth house,
and that he would bring them back safely, either that evening or the
next morning."
"Oh, Mother! didn't you suspect it might be a trick?" questioned Ben,
anxiously. "You knew how this Ward Porton has been impersonating
Dave."
"Yes, yes, Ben, I know," answered Mrs. Basswood, again wringing her
hands. "And I should have been more careful. But you know I was very
much upset on account of the bad turn your father had had. Then, too,
the young man threw me off my guard by asking me if I had one of those
cards which Dave had distributed among the storekeepers--the one with
his autograph on it.
"I said 'no,' but told him I was very well acquainted with his
handwriting. Then he said he would write out a card for me, adding,
with a laugh, that he wanted me to be sure he was really Dave. He
drew a blank card out of his pocket and turned to a table to write on
it and then handed it to me. Here is the card now;" and, going to the
mantelpiece, the lady of the house produced it.
"One of the cards that I left in the overcoat that was stolen!"
exclaimed Dave. "He didn't write this at all, Mrs. Basswood. That
rascal stole my overcoat and some of these cards were in it. He simply
pretended to write on it."
"Well, I was sure it was your handwriting, and that made me feel easy
about the fellow being you."
"But you knew I was with Ben and the others on the sleigh-ride," broke
in Dave.
"Oh, I forgot to state that when he came in he explained that you were
all stormbound at the hotel in Lamont and that, as the telephone and
telegraph wires were all down, he had managed to get to Pepsico and
reach Crumville on a freight train, doing this so that we and the
Wadsworths would not worry, thinking the sleighing-party had been lost
somewhere on the road in this awful blizzard."
"And then you gave him the miniatures?" questioned Ben.
"I did. Oh, Ben, I know now how very foolish it was! But I was so
upset! At first I thought to ask your father about it; but I was
afraid that to disturb him would make him feel worse, and I knew he
was bad enough already. Then, too, I knew that Mr. Wadsworth was
expecting some art critics to look at the miniatures, so I concluded
it must be all right. I have always known the combination of your
father's safe, so it was an easy matter for me to open it and get the
miniatures out. I told the young man to be careful of them, and he
told me not to worry--that the miniatures would be perfectly safe, and
that Mr. Wadsworth had promised to get the critic to set a fair value
on each of them."
"Was this Ward Porton alone?" asked Laura. The girls, of course, had
listened with as much interest as the boys to what the lady of the
house had to relate.
"No, he came in a cutter driven by a man who was so bundled up because
of the cold that I could not make out who he was. As soon as I gave
him the cases containing the miniatures the young man hurried off in
the cutter, stating that the sooner the critic had a chance to see the
paintings the better."
"And what happened next?" questioned Dave, as Mrs. Basswood paused in
her recital.
"I went back to assist a nurse who had come in, and all that night we
had our hands full with my husband. We had to call in the doctor, and
he was really not out of danger until noon of the next day. I had
wanted to tell him about sending the miniatures over to the Wadsworth
house, but he was in no condition to be told anything, so I kept
silent."
"But didn't you get worried when noon came and the supposed Dave
didn't return with them?" questioned the son.
"Yes, as soon as the doctor said that your father was out of danger I
began to worry over the miniatures. I waited until the middle of the
afternoon, and then, although it was snowing and blowing something
awful, I hailed a passing man--old Joe Patterson--and asked him if he
would go on an errand to the Wadsworth house. He said he would try to
make it for a dollar, and so I wrote a short note to Mrs. Wadsworth,
knowing that she must be at home even though her husband and Dave
might be away.
"Old Patterson delivered this message, and Mrs. Wadsworth sent back
word that she had not seen anything of Dave since he had gone away on
the sleigh-ride, nor had she seen anything of the miniatures. She
added that her husband had gone to the jewelry works, but that she
would send one of the hired men after him at once and acquaint him
with the situation."
"What did you do then?" went on Ben.
"I really didn't know what to do. Your father was so ill that the
nurse and I had to give him every attention. I was waiting for the
doctor to come again, but he could not get here on account of the
snow-drifts. Mr. Wadsworth put in an appearance about two hours later,
and then I told him just what I have told you. He declared at once
that it must be a trick, stating that Dave had not been near the house
since going away with all of you young folks. Mr. Wadsworth was quite
put out, and wanted to know how it was that I had not been able to
detect the deception."
"Well, I must say--" commenced Ben, and then stopped short, for he
could see how his mother was suffering.
"Oh, yes, Ben, I know what you were going to say," she broke in
quickly. "Having known Dave so many years I should have discovered the
deception. But, as I said before, I was terribly worked up over your
father's condition. Then, too, the young man came in bundled up in an
overcoat and a cap that looked exactly like those Dave wears."
"They were mine. That fellow stole them from me," interrupted our
hero, bitterly.
"Not only that, but he had a tippet placed over his head and around
his neck, and he spoke in a very hoarse voice, stating that he had
caught a terrible cold while on the sleigh-ride and while coming back
to Crumville on the freight train. He spoke about Mr. Basswood's real
estate business, and about Mr. and Mrs. Wadsworth and Jessie, and so
many other things that we are familiar with, that I was completely
deceived. Then, too, his turning over that written card to me also
threw me off my guard. But I know I was very foolish, very foolish
indeed!" and Mrs. Basswood's lips trembled and she wrung her hands
once again.
"What did Mr. Wadsworth do?" questioned Dave, in the midst of rather
an awkward pause. He agreed with Ben that Mrs. Basswood should have
recognized Ward Porton as an imposter, but he did not want to say
anything that might add to the lady's misery.
"He said he would set the authorities at work and see if he could not
find Porton and his confederate. I was so bewildered that I--well, I
might as well admit it--I told him that I couldn't understand how I
had been deceived, and that maybe Dave had gotten the miniatures after
all."
"Oh, Mrs. Basswood, you didn't really mean that!" cried our hero.
"I was so bewildered I didn't know what I meant, Dave. That young man
did look so very much like you. That's the reason, when you folks
drove up to the house, I ran out to ask if you had really been here or
not."
"Have you heard anything of this Ward Porton since?" asked Roger.
"I haven't heard anything. Whether Mr. Wadsworth has learned anything
or not I do not know, for he has not been here and the storm has been
so awful, with all the telephone wires down, that I could not send for
news."
"Does father know about this now?" questioned Ben.
"No, Ben, I have not had the courage to tell him," answered the
mother. "I told the doctor, and he advised that I say nothing for the
present."
"I don't think I'd tell him," said Dave. "I think the best thing we
can do is to try to follow Porton and this fellow with him and get
back the miniatures. Then it will be time enough to tell Mr. Basswood
about the affair."
As soon as they had entered the parlor the lady of the house had shut
the door, so that none of the conversation might reach the sick
chamber overhead. In reply to numerous questions Mrs. Basswood gave
all the details as to how the rascally Porton had been able to gain
possession of the miniatures.
"I think I'll hurry up and get home," declared Dave, presently. "I
want to hear what Mr. Wadsworth has to say; and also find out what he
and my folks have done towards getting on the track of Porton and his
confederate."
"That's the talk!" exclaimed Roger. "Say! but this is the worst yet,
isn't it?" He turned to the lady of the house. "I am awfully sorry for
you, Mrs. Basswood."
"I guess we are all sorry," broke in our hero, quickly.
"Oh, I hope they catch that Porton and put him in prison!" cried
Jessie.
"That is where he belongs," answered Dave, soberly.