“I will get even with you for this. Bob is not your son, and I will
see that you don’t adopt him, either. Whenever I see a notice of your
death--and you can’t live forever--I will hunt that boy up and make him
know what it is to be in want, as I am at this moment.”
I don’t suppose that when Clifford Henderson shouted this defiance at
his brother, on the day he left him, after Mr. Davenport had refused to
take any further steps toward paying his debts, that he really intended
to go to Texas, or, if he did, he never expected to meet Bob there. He
wanted to get away by himself and think over his misfortune; for he
considered it a misfortune when his brother, who was fairly rolling in
wealth, should decline to advance him the small sum when he was so much
in need of it. Henderson was in sore straits--that is, for him. He had
money, but he was anxious to get a little more, in order to go into a
speculation in which he was certain to lose all he had; and it was when
his brother declined to meet this demand that he went into a rage.
“Old Bob wants me to go to work,” said he, as he turned and shook his
fist at the house. “Not if I know it! I have seen him, when he was not
any older than I am, looking around for a chance to put his money at
interest, and he never would have anything to do with what I suggested
to him. Never mind; he is ’most dead with consumption, and I will see
what will become of Bob after that.”
When he got a little further along the street whom should he meet
but the man with whom he intended to go into the speculation. It was
buying waste land on the outskirts of the city, which might some day be
profitable enough, but which would take double the amount that he had
to improve it.
“Well, Clifford, did you try your brother?” he exclaimed, as soon as he
got within speaking distance. “I know you have, for a fellow would not
look as glum as you do who had met with any success.”
“Yes, I have tried him,” said Henderson, taking the opportunity to
whisper a few choice swear words. “I have tried him, and he can’t see
it. He had but a few dollars left, and he wants to invest that for Bob.
Bob! Everything is for Bob! I wish I could get rid of that boy.”
“You know I told you, when he came back from the mines and brought that
boy with him, that your cake was all dough,” said his friend, who was
about as disgusted as a man could well be. “Why did not you take my
advice and put him away long ago?”
“Because I was a fool--that’s why! You see I was afraid somebody would
get onto it.”
“They won’t if you do as I tell you. But it is none of my funeral. If
you can’t go into the speculation I must go and hunt up somebody else.
I must have some of those acres up there, for I know there is money in
them. Before I would be tied down by a little boy! Good gracious! Why
don’t you push him overboard?”
“I never have a chance to go fishing with him,” said Henderson.
“No matter. You could make chances enough, I dare say. How does the boy
feel toward you?”
“Friendly enough. I don’t think old Bob has mentioned my name to him
for a long time.”
“Does his tutor go with him everywhere?”
“Yes, everywhere. He can’t go out around the block without the tutor
sticks close at his heels. If he would only send the boy to school I
would have a better show.”
“Do you know where the boy sleeps?”
“I bet you I do, but I don’t intend to fool around there,” said
Henderson, growing alarmed. “He sleeps in a room opening off from the
tutor’s, and I tell you I wouldn’t take a hand in it. That tutor is a
big man and is a match for both of us.”
“Could he get away with a sand-bag?” said the friend, shutting one eye
and looking at Henderson with the other. “A man has to be wide awake
to meet such a thing as that.”
“You may try it if you want to, and I’ll give you half you make,” said
Henderson. “My brother is going to die in the course of a year or two,
and by the end of that time I shall have money enough.”
“You can if he dies without making a will; but how do you intend to get
around it if he names the boy as his heir?”
“If he doesn’t adopt him it is all right. I tell you that would make
me mad. In that case I should probably wake up and do something, and I
should find myself in jail before I was a week older.”
“Not if you manage rightly. But I must go on. I must have that land
before three o’clock or the fat will all be in the fire.”
The friend walked away and Henderson kept on his road down the street.
We can see from his conversation that he was not a bad man at heart,
but he ought to have been rich, and in that case he would in a very
short time have found himself penniless. His expectations ran greatly
ahead of his income, which at this time amounted to just nothing at
all. All he made aside from his brother’s allowance was what he gained
from little speculations, and, furthermore, he was in the hands of men
who generally called on him for everything they wanted, and with a fair
prospect of getting it. But now that Mr. Davenport had refused him
any more money,--he had told him in plain language that he would have
to pay his own debts in future,--their occupation was gone, and they
must look elsewhere. He sent for his clothing during the day, and took
up his abode at the hotel, where he tried to make up his mind what he
ought to do.
“I have my choice between two courses of action,” said he, as he
lighted a cigar and sat down in his room to think the matter over. “One
is, to shut Bob up in a lunatic asylum; and the other is, to go fishing
with him and shove him overboard. Now, if anyone can tell me which of
those two is the safest, I will be ready to listen to him. Nothing else
seems likely to happen to him.”
The worst of it all was, Mr. Davenport knew that something was about
to happen to Bob. Almost a year before, when Mr. Davenport had refused
to advance money for some of Henderson’s schemes, the latter had so
far forgotten himself as to make threats against Bob. It alarmed his
father, who at once took Bob out of school and placed him under the
protection of a private teacher, a stalwart man, a born athlete, and
ready to hold his own against all the men that Henderson could bring
against him. He slept, too, in a room adjoining Bob’s, so that the
boy was under his care night and day. And it was all done so quietly
that Bob never suspected anything. Wherever he went his tutor was
ready to go with him; he was a man whom he liked, and he supposed that
everything was just as it should be.
“That was a bad thing for me,” soliloquized Henderson, knocking the
ashes from his cigar. “If I had kept still about that I might have got
rid of Bob, and no one would have been the wiser for it, but now he is
lost to me.”
Of course his determination to push Bob overboard when he went fishing
with him was knocked in the head by this arrangement, and so was his
desire to steal him away and lock him up. This last, which was the
idea of the man he had left but a few minutes ago, held out brighter
promises than anything else; and he had even gone so far as to engage
the doctor who was to take charge of it, promising him five thousand
dollars when the boy was delivered into his hands, and as much more if
his object was successful. But there he stopped. Henderson didn’t have
the pluck to go ahead with it, and there the matter laid for over a
year. Now it was brought back to him with redoubled force. Everything
was going to Bob; he could see that plainly enough, and it was high
time he was doing something. In fact, it had been that way ever since
Mr. Davenport returned from the mines with this little nuisance, picked
up none knew where.
“He must go, and that’s all about it,” said Henderson, rising from his
chair and hurriedly pacing the room. “If he won’t go overboard he must
be locked up; my luck and everything else depend upon it. I will go
out now and see what Scanlan has to say about it, for I am determined
that I will not put up with him any longer.”
Scanlan was the friend he had left an hour or so before, and when found
he didn’t have the money to enable him to go on with that speculation.
There were few Hendersons in the field for him to call upon, and they
were as hard up as he was.
“I guess the land will have to go to somebody else,” said he, as he
described his ill luck. “I want just five hundred dollars, and nobody
seems to have it.”
“I could get it, if it were not for my brother,” said Henderson; and
when he spoke the word “brother” he fairly hissed it through his
teeth. Scanlan looked up in surprise. “Have I forgotten to tell you
that old Bob invariably speaks of that little snipe as my brother?”
he continued. “He has been with him now for four years, and he thinks
that I can get used to calling him by a relationship that really never
existed.”
“How old is the boy, anyhow?”
“Seven years old. Old Bob took him when he was only three. I only wish
the Indians had come down on them and massacred the last one of the
lot. Not old Bob, of course, for I am indebted to him for a pocketful
of rocks, but that young one I wish I had never seen.”
“I don’t see what his pocketful of rocks has got to do with you,” said
Scanlan.
“Neither do I. I do think,” added Henderson, as though he was
considering the matter for the first time, “that if I would go home and
behave myself, and wait until the old man dies, I could really get hold
of some of his money, but how much would I get? Not twenty thousand,
and that isn’t enough to buy an oyster supper.”
“How much is the old man worth?”
“I don’t know. A cool million.”
“Whew!” whistled Scanlan. “And are you going to stay back and let that
boy cheat you out of it? If you do I shall never be sorry for you.”
“That’s is just what I don’t want to do, and I came down here to talk
to you about kidnapping him and putting him under lock and key,”
continued Henderson, looking all around to make sure that no one
overheard him. “I say let him be locked up at once.”
“Now you are talking,” said Scanlan. “If you had decided on that
several years ago you would have had no trouble; but now I tell you it
is going to be uphill work. We’ve got the tutor to overcome, and that
is going to be all that we two can do. Now, what do you propose?”
A long conversation followed, and the substance was that the matter was
left entirely in the hands of his friend Scanlan. Henderson had never
been in the habit of defying the police by engaging in any kidnapping
schemes, and he did not propose to begin now. He wanted the boy got rid
of, when and how he didn’t care, so long as no effort was made against
his life. That was too dangerous. And there, we may add, the thing
rested for a whole year, until one day Henderson heard something in
a few moments’ talk with the tutor, who had waited outside while his
pupil was in a store making some purchases, that set him post haste
after Scanlan.
“The dog is dead now,” said he, drawing Scanlan into a doorway where
they could talk without being overheard, “and I don’t know whether to
be glad or sorry over it. My brother is going to Texas!”
“To Texas?” exclaimed Scanlan. “What in the world should take him into
that far-off region?”
“He had a relative down there engaged in the cattle business, and he
has died leaving his property to old Bob. Don’t it beat the world how
some fellows can get along without lifting their hands? Now, if he had
left those cattle to me who stand so much in need of them----”
“If that boy goes to Texas he’ll be out of reach of you,” interrupted
Scanlan.
“Yes; but see what danger he’ll be in.”
“I don’t know that he will be in any danger--more than he is here,”
said Scanlan. “Remember that if he stays there long enough to get
acquainted he will have any number of rifles to back him up.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“Why, supposing his father dies and leaves no will. It would put you
to some trouble to prove that you are next of kin. You see your names
are different. If they made up their minds that he was the heir, it
would be good-by to you.”
“And you believe it would be best to kidnap him very soon?” asked
Henderson, his courage all leaving him.
“Certainly I do! If he goes down there you are a poor man for your
lifetime. Now is the chance. I tell you I would not miss it for
anything!”
This brought the matter squarely home to Henderson, and he decided that
he would take that night to sleep upon it. He rolled and tossed on his
bed without ever closing his eyes in slumber, and when morning came he
had made up his mind to do something.
“Scanlan will have to do it all,” said he, and his compressed lips
showed that he had looked at the matter in all its bearings. “I will
keep just behind him and show him the room where the boy sleeps, and he
can throw the quilt over him and secure him without any help from me.
Then if that old tutor of his jumps in on us, why I will get out of
the way. But I must leave my way of escape clear.”
Henderson carried out his programme by going to the bank, drawing out
his money, and depositing it somewhere about his person. Then he packed
his trunk as if for a long journey, and then told Scanlan that he was
ready for business.
“I knew that was the decision you would come to, so I got the carriage
and made it all right with the driver,” said Scanlan. “I have got an
extension bit, which is about the only thing we need, to enable us to
get in through the basement door. Now, Cliff, how much am I going to
get for this? I do all the work and you stand by and look on. I ought
to have a considerable sum for that.”
“Why, I guess what I am to give the doctor----” began Henderson.
“Not much,” said Scanlan, with a laugh. “What you will give the doctor
won’t faze me. Say a tenth of what you make.”
“Oh, my goodness!” stammered Henderson.
“I have got the paper here, it is all drawn up, and I guess it is all
right,” continued Scanlan, drawing a folded document from his inside
pocket. “Just run your eye over that.”
“A hundred thousand!” gasped Henderson.
“That isn’t a drop in the bucket to what you will have if you succeed,”
said Scanlan coolly. “You will see that the paper says ‘if successful.’
If you don’t succeed in the job, why that is my lookout. If you do, I
shall want the money. If the arrangement doesn’t suit you, get somebody
else to try his hand.”
That was just what Henderson was afraid of, and things had gone too far
for him to back out. He felt as though he was signing his death warrant
when he was affixing his signature to the document, but when it was
done the writing did not look much like his bold penmanship.
“So far so good,” said Scanlan, coolly surveying the signature. “But
you are a little nervous, Cliff. Now you keep that tutor off me and
I will get the boy. You meet me here at ten o’clock, and when morning
comes that fellow will be under lock and key.”
“I have done it,” said Henderson, going out on the street and wending
his way toward his brother’s house. “I have gone too far to back out.
Here I have gone and signed a paper and placed it in the hands of that
man Scanlan, and he can use it on me at a moment’s warning. He’s a
desperate fellow. I wish I felt as certain of success as he does.”
Somebody has said that when a man is going to the bad he finds
everything greased for the occasion; that is, he finds it easy enough
to go down hill; but almost impossible for him to get back. I am not
well enough posted in literature to know who it was that said it, but
perhaps some of you boys who are fresh from your books may be able
to name the person. Henderson found it so, and it all dated from the
moment he signed that paper. He was afraid to back out now, and so he
must go on. He walked by his brother’s house once or twice, and then
went back to his hotel. He didn’t eat any supper, and he didn’t want
any; but when it came near time for him to meet Scanlan he stepped into
a store and bought a heavy oak stick, which he thought would be strong
enough to floor the tutor or anybody else that took a hand in rescuing
the boy, and pronounced himself ready for the business. There were
still three hours for them to pass in some way, for Scanlan did not
think it safe to make a move before one o’clock, and the time seemed
to slip away before they knew it. They found the carriage right where
Scanlan said they would, and in a few minutes were set down within a
few doors of Mr. Davenport’s house. When they got out the hack-driver
thought it time to speak about his money.
“Look here!” said he; “which one of you gentlemen is a-going to pay me
a hundred dollars for this trip? Kidnapping a sane person and taking
him off to a lunatic asylum----”
“My dear sir, kidnapping is something we don’t have any hand in at
all,” said Scanlan. “We are going to take this fellow out of the house
with the full consent of his father, but we don’t want his aunts to
know anything about it. The hundred dollars are all right. This man is
a detective, and will pay you when we get the passenger to the asylum.
Are you satisfied?”
The hack-driver had nothing further to say. All he wanted to know was
who would give him his money when the trip was over. He mounted to his
box, being instructed to keep himself within hailing distance, and the
two kept on toward Mr. Davenport’s residence. All was dark and silent
within, except the light that was kept burning in the tutor’s room.
“We have got to keep out of that,” said Henderson, pointing toward the
window. “If we allow ourselves to come within reach of it I shall be
recognized; then good-by to me.”
“Well, we must look out for that,” said Scanlan, who did not feel any
more fear than if he was sitting down to his supper. “Keep close beside
me, and be ready to knock the tutor down if he takes a hand in the
rumpus. That’s all you have to do.”
In a few minutes they reached the basement door, where they were free
from interruption, and Scanlan, producing his extension bit, went
to work in earnest. He first cut out a circular opening in the door
above the bolt, then thrust his hand in and cautiously removed the
fastenings, and the door swung open. They entered and Scanlan closed
the door behind him.
“I think you had better leave it open,” said Henderson, who trembled
as if he was seized with a sudden attack of the ague. “We might be
discovered.”
“In that case we’ll have something to light us out,” said Scanlan. “But
be sure you kick over the blaze before you go out.”
With the words Scanlan took from his pocket a small piece of candle,
which he lighted and stood upon the table, embedded in some of its own
grease. Then he stopped and looked around him. The house was silent as
if it had been deserted, and having satisfied himself on this point,
Scanlan motioned for Henderson to lead the way up the stairs. The
steps were carpeted, and moreover, being shod with rubbers, the men
gave out no sound as they ascended to the first floor, the leader
easily finding and opening all doors that barred his progress. That one
lock passed at the basement door had opened the way for them.
At length they came to the front hall, and here some more strategy was
made use of. Henderson carefully unlocked the door and placed the key
on the outside, and then cautiously led the way up the second stairs
to the floor above. He stopped every once in a while to listen, but he
heard nothing suspicious, and presently pushed open a door that gave
entrance into the room in which the little boy was sleeping. With a
motion of his hand, Henderson pointed him out, and then moved through
the room to take a look at the tutor. He lay upon his back with his
arms extended over his head, revealing muscles that made Henderson
tremble. Something, I don’t know what it was, went through the tutor
all of a sudden, and he started up in alarm to find a strange face in
his door He gazed at it a moment, and then thrust his hand under his
pillow. When it came out it had a revolver in its grasp. Henderson took
one look at it and turned and took to his heels.