THE BROKER’S RETURN.
About ten o’clock, on the morning of his arrival, Mr. Sands entered his
office. He had kept the run of the business through letters from Mr.
Moore, the book-keeper; but the latter had omitted to mention Gilbert’s
dismissal, and the reinstatement of John as his successor.
Mr. Sands was therefore surprised to see John in the office, with his
hat off.
“Where is Gilbert?” he asked, abruptly.
John looked confused.
“He’ll tell you,” he said, pointing to his cousin.
“Have you dismissed Gilbert, Mr. Moore?” demanded Mr. Sands, abruptly.
Moore, in spite of his bravado, was a little nervous. He was
apprehensive that he would not be able to convince Mr. Sands of
Gilbert’s guilt.
“I was obliged to discharge him, I am sorry to say,” he answered.
“Why did you discharge him, may I inquire?” persisted the broker.
Simon Moore, himself of a haughty disposition, flushed at the imperative
tone which his employer used. It chafed him especially to be so
addressed in the presence of his young cousin.
“I don’t suppose you wish to have a thief in your employ,” he answered,
hastily.
“Do you charge Gilbert Greyson with being a thief?”
“I do, sir.”
“Let me know the particulars.”
Simon Moore rehearsed the story, already familiar to the reader, of the
ten-dollar bill found in the pocket of Gilbert’s overcoat.
“Did he admit his guilt?” asked the broker.
“Oh, no, he brazened it out; but the proofs were overwhelming.”
“Who found the bill in Gilbert’s pocket?”
“John.”
“Oh!” ejaculated the broker, significantly.
Simon Moore’s face flushed again.
“Let me explain,” he said.
“By all means; that is what I want.”
“Only John, who had come in to make a call on me, and Gilbert had been
here. One or the other must have been the thief. I therefore asked
Gilbert to search John, and John to search Gilbert. It seemed to me
fair. The result showed who was the thief.”
“Upon this, you discharged Gilbert, and engaged John.”
“Yes, sir. I needed a boy, and did not dare to employ Gilbert lest there
should be further and more serious losses. John being present, and
understanding the duties, I engaged him.”
“John is your cousin, is he not, Mr. Moore?” asked Mr. Sands, quietly.
“Yes, sir,” said the book-keeper, looking slightly embarrassed.
“It was very fortunate for him that he happened to be at the office on
that particular morning.”
Here John thought it time to introduce himself into the conversation.
“That’s what Cousin Simon told me,” he said.
“If John had not been here, I should have been obliged to advertise for
a boy,” said the book-keeper, recovering his confidence.
“Have you seen Gilbert since?” inquired Mr. Sands.
“I have,” said John, grinning.
“Where did you see him? Do you know if he has another situation?”
“Oh, yes,” said John, chuckling; “he’s set up on his own account.”
“What do you mean?”
“T’other morning I saw him selling papers near the City Hall Park.”
“Humph!”
Mr. Sands said no more, but set about examining the books. Presently he
put on his hat and went out.
“What do you think he’s going to do, Cousin Simon?” asked John,
anxiously.
“I guess the storm’s blown over.”
“He didn’t seem to like it that I was here.”
“He don’t have a very high opinion of you; and I don’t blame him,” said
the book-keeper, unable to restrain his sarcasm, although John was his
cousin.
“Seems to me you’re pretty hard on me,” said John, aggrieved. “Do you
think he’ll let me stay?”
“I think he will, if you do your duty.”
“Oh, I’ll do that fast enough,” said John, looking relieved.
“I advise you not to let Mr. Sands see you with a cigarette in your
mouth.”
“Who told you I smoked cigarettes? It’s a—”
“You’d better not finish the sentence. I saw you last evening on the
street with one in your mouth.”
“I guess I’ll have to be more careful,” said John to himself. “Who’d
have thought he’d find out?”
“I was just trying it to see how it seemed,” he explained.
“Well, you know now, and you’d better give them up,” said Simon Moore.
“Now, go to the post-office for the mail.”
On his way home, in the afternoon, Mr. Sands was looking about for a
seat in the crowded car, when a boy addressed him.
“Take my seat, Mr. Sands.”
“Gilbert!” exclaimed the broker, cordially, extending his hand. “I have
been hoping to meet you.”
“When did you get home from Washington, sir?”
“This morning early. I was surprised not to find you in your accustomed
place in my office.”
“I suppose Mr. Moore explained my absence?” said Gilbert.
“Yes; but I should prefer to hear your explanation. I should have more
faith in its truth.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Gilbert, gratefully.
“It is hardly a matter to talk about in public. Have you any engagement
this afternoon?”
“No, sir.”
“Then come around to my house, and take dinner.”
“What will Mr. Moore say?” asked Gilbert smiling.
“We will see to-morrow. Will you come?”
“With great pleasure, Mr. Sands.”
Mr. Sands lived in a pleasant house up-town. He had a wife but no
children. His wife greeted Gilbert pleasantly.
“I have heard my husband speak of you,” she said.
Before dinner Gilbert got a chance to explain matters to Mr. Sands.
“I believe you,” said the broker, emphatically.
“Don’t rely too much upon my word, sir,” said Gilbert. “I want you to be
thoroughly convinced of my innocence.”
“I am.”
“Still, sir, I should like to bring a street boy—a boot-black—to confirm
my story. He saw John put the bill into my overcoat pocket, when I was
out on an errand.”
“That is important testimony. I trust your word implicitly; but it may
be as well to bring him round to the office, in order to confound those
who have got up this wicked plot against you.”
“He is only a boot-black,” said Gilbert; “but I think he is
trustworthy.”
“I have reasons with which you are not acquainted for believing him and
you,” said the broker.
Gilbert looked curious, and Mr. Sands explained.
“I was present in an oyster-saloon, one evening before I started for
Washington, and overheard Mr. Moore and John expressing their intentions
to get you into trouble during my absence. This was the reason why I
warned you against the book-keeper.”
“I remember it, sir; but I did not know your reasons.”
“Now, tell me how you have got along, being suddenly deprived of your
income. John told me he saw you selling papers near City Hall Park one
day.”
“It is true, sir. I could make something that way, and so I tried it.”
“I respect you the more for it. Have you kept up this employment till
now?”
“No, sir. Mr. Vivian has engaged me as tutor for his son, at a salary of
ten dollars per week.”
“Is it possible? That is remarkable, considering your youth.”
“It was to help me, sir, I have no doubt.”
“You must be a good scholar.”
“Not necessarily; Fred is only just beginning Latin, and it does not
require much learning to teach him.”
“If your time is so profitably occupied, I suppose I can’t induce you to
come back into my office.”
“I should be very glad to do so, sir. I only give my evenings to Fred
Vivian.”
“Then you may come back to-morrow, at a salary of seven dollars a week.”
“You are very kind, sir. I fear I shall not earn so much.”
“That is my lookout. Come to-morrow, at quarter-past nine. If I am not
there, say nothing to Mr. Moore about resuming your situation.”
“All right, sir.”
After dinner Gilbert went to Mr. Vivian’s, to meet his pupil.