BERT OBTAINS AN IMPORTANT CLEW.
Mr. Harding was not a literary man, and his papers would hardly have
been of any value to a publisher. They consisted principally of letters,
some of them ten years old. It seemed to have been a habit of Ralph
Harding to keep his letters, though he probably set no great value upon
them.
Bert opened fifteen or twenty, and glanced over them, only to find that
they related to matters in which he felt no interest whatever. He began
to doubt whether they were even worth the small sum he had paid for
them, when all at once he made a discovery. He found a letter dated
Lakeville.
"Who can have written him from Lakeville?" he asked himself, and
naturally turned the page to read the signature.
His heart beat quickly when he read the name of the writer--Albert
Marlowe. It was dated about two years previous, and ran as follows:
DEAR SIR: I have received your letter, and am surprised
that you should have the boldness to write to me for money. I am
sorry to hear that you have been in bad luck, but I presume it is
your own fault. You are able to earn good wages, and ought to pay
your own way without depending on anybody. Look at me! I was once a
common workman like you, but, thanks to my energy and enterprise, I
am now the owner of a large factory, and able to live in
comparative luxury. I don't know why you should expect me to
support you. I have a family of my own to care for, and my first
duty is to them.
You intimate that you are in possession of a secret which, if made
known, will injure me. I suppose I know what you mean. I don't
think, however, that you will find any one to believe what you may
say to my disadvantage, and I warn you to be careful what you do,
or I may testify that you yourself took the missing bonds. Don't
trouble yourself to write to me again, for it will be time thrown
away.
ALBERT MARLOWE.
Underneath the signature were a few lines, evidently written by Ralph
Harding:
Who would believe that the writer of this letter is a thief, and
that the capital on which he started in business was stolen? I
bitterly repent that I was induced to join in the plot against poor
Barton. He--poor fellow--is in exile, afraid to return to his own
country, while the man who committed the crime which has shadowed
his life, is rich and prosperous, and holds up his head in society.
And I--miserable tool that I was--by my testimony helped him to
fasten the crime on an innocent man. I don't know whether it will
do any good to write again. I am a poor man, and Albert Marlowe is
rich. He will defy me, and perhaps swear that I was implicated in
the robbery myself. So I was, alas! for I accepted a bribe of two
hundred dollars for my part in the matter. I wish I could see poor
Barton righted!
Bert read this letter with flushed face and beating heart. Here was
proof positive that his father was innocent; and Albert Marlowe, the
rich manufacturer, the magnate of Lakeville, was guilty not only of
robbery, but, what was even more contemptible, had schemed successfully
to throw the guilt upon an innocent man, the husband of his cousin.
Through him John Barton had suffered a ten-years' exile, and had been
deprived for that time of his good name and the society of his family.
"I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for this letter," said Bert to
himself in exultation. "I don't know what it amounts to in the eyes of
the law, but I am sure it is valuable. Now, if I could only find Ralph
Harding himself."
Bert continued his search among the letters, and finally found one
postmarked Peoria, Illinois, which appeared to have been received by
Ralph Harding about a week before he left Harrisburg.
This is an extract therefrom:
It is five years since I have seen you. This is a long separation
considering that we two are the only ones left of the family. If
you are in your old business as I infer from your letter, why can't
you get work just as well here in Peoria as in Harrisburg? There is
a large shop here, where I think you would not have any difficulty
in securing employment. I presume as good wages are paid here as at
the East. We have a small room which you could occupy, and it would
be pleasant for a brother and sister who have been so long
separated to find themselves under the same roof.
My husband is a carpenter, as you know. His earnings are not large,
and he doesn't always have work, but we have a little sum saved up
which we can fall back upon in time of need. I can't lend you any
money, and indeed you ought not to expect it, as you are a single
man, and have no one to take care of but yourself. I am afraid you
are not a very good manager. Come to Peoria, and I will see if I
can't help you save money. Consider what a position you would be in
if you should fall sick.
Your affectionate sister,
HELEN CLIFTON.
Underneath, in Ralph Harding's handwriting, was this brief indorsement:
All true, every word of it! Helen was always prudent and a good
manager. It is true, as she says, that there are but two of us. Why
shouldn't I go to Peoria, and see her?
There was no more; but as Ralph Harding a week later left Harrisburg, it
seemed fair to infer that he had adopted his own half-expressed
intention, and gone to Peoria, to see his sister, especially as there
seemed a good chance of his obtaining work there in his own line.
"Peoria!" repeated Bert thoughtfully. "The chances are that Ralph
Harding went there from Harrisburg, and it is very probable that he is
there now. I wish I could find some one that could tell me about the
place."
"Mr. Pearson," he said, when he met the associate manager at rehearsal,
"can you tell me anything about Peoria?"
"Yes," answered the actor. "What do you want to know about it?"
"How large a place is it?"
"About the size of Harrisburg. I don't believe there is a thousand
difference in the population."
"Is it far from here?"
"A matter of six or seven hundred miles, I should think, perhaps a
little more. It is southeast of Chicago. Why do you want to know?"
"I want to find a man who, I have reason to think, is now living there.
I may have to leave the company, as it is very important for me to find
this man."
"There will be no occasion for you to leave the company. When we leave
Harrisburg, we jump to Chicago, and probably three weeks from now we
shall be playing in Peoria. It is on our list of places, and is a very
good city for a short engagement. Will that be soon enough?"
Bert hesitated. If he remained with the company, his expenses would be
paid out to Peoria, and he would be earning fifteen dollars a week
besides.
"Come, now, don't hesitate!" said Mr. Pearson. "We shouldn't know how to
get along without you."
Naturally this pleased Bert, and helped to fix his resolution.
"I don't know but I can wait two or three weeks," he said slowly, "if
you are sure we shall play at Peoria."
"I am certain of it. The route was made up this morning. We are having
some new bills printed in which your name is substituted for that of Bob
Hazleton. So you see, my boy, you will be getting a reputation under
your own colors."
This had its effect, for Bert felt that he should like to have a bill of
the play in which his own name appeared. Otherwise he might find his
friends incredulous as to his having actually been upon the stage. Later
in the day he gave his promise that he would go with the company when
they left Harrisburg, but would not sign an engagement for any definite
time, as he did not wish to put any obstacle in the way of his following
any clew that might lead to the discovery of Harding.
"Well, Mr. Barton," said Mrs. Stubbs after supper, "did you find
anything of value in that box of papers?"
"Yes; I obtained some information that will probably be of value.
Besides it gave me a clew to his present residence."
"Indeed," said Angelica, who was present, "where is he?"
"In Peoria, Illinois. He has a married sister living there."
"Shall you go out West to find him?"
"I expect to go with the company. They will play an engagement in
Peoria."
"If you see Mr. Harding, please remember me to him. Say--that is, you
may hint that I still think of him with interest, and--and hope he will
some day return to us."
"That message ought to bring him, Miss Angelica."
"Of course I only think of him as a friend, but we were very congenial,
and it is not often that one meets a congenial spirit."
"Why not send a letter to Mr. Harding by me?"
"I--that is; mamma, do you think it would be proper?" asked Angelica
with bashful hesitation.
"I don't know why not," answered Mrs. Stubbs promptly. "You might ask in
the letter when it will be convenient for him to pay his board bill."
"Oh, ma, how unromantic!"
"It may not be romantic, Angelica, but it's business," said the
practical mother.
Miss Stubbs did write the letter, but it is certain she did not mention
the board bill in it.