“I WOULD STAKE MY FORTUNE.”
When Gerald and Allison met at the breakfast-table the next morning
the fond glances of the one and the shy blushes of the other
warned Mr. Brewster that Cupid was surely in ambush, and it would
behoove him to be keenly on the alert. It was his custom to attend
church every Sabbath morning, and Allison always accompanied him;
accordingly, this morning, notwithstanding the excitement of the
previous day, was no exception to his rule.
He courteously invited Gerald to accompany him, but the young man
excused himself, as he wished to get back to the city by the next
train.
Mr. Brewster offered to drop him at the station, as it lay on their
way to church, and he experienced a sense of intense relief when
the young man sprang from the carriage, just in season to board the
train.
Not that he was not fond of Gerald for his faithfulness to him and
his many noble qualities, while his heroism of the previous day had
aroused his deepest gratitude, and increased his admiration for
him a hundredfold. Had he been his own son, he would have gloried
in him, or had he been the son of a man in his own sphere of life,
he would have eagerly welcomed him as a suitor for his daughter’s
hand. But pride, that relentless tyrant of the human heart, would
never swerve out of the beaten track for a struggling clerk, even
though he were of irreproachable morals or noblest aspirations.
One day, shortly after the departure of his family for Newport, Mr.
Brewster, on entering his office, laid a tiny package upon Gerald’s
desk.
“Something that Mrs. Manning commissioned me to hand to you,” he
remarked.
It proved to be a small box, which, upon opening, Gerald found to
contain a modest--as to size--but flawless diamond, in the form of
a stud.
On an accompanying card were written these words:
“With grateful remembrance and kindest regards.
“CHARLES AND ANNIE MANNING.”
Gerald was deeply touched by the testimonial, and greatly delighted
with the beautiful gift.
He did not once see or hear from Allison throughout the summer,
although, for years, he had never failed to receive an invitation
to spend a day or two at Newport with the family, but the memory
of those few last moments on that never-to-be-forgotten night at
Lakeview--that lingering, betraying caress, and the trustful,
loving look in the sweet, startled eyes uplifted to his, was a
source of never-failing joy to him.
“I will yet be worthy to claim her, morally, intellectually,
and--financially,” he often said to himself, with that same look of
determination with which he had once told John Hubbard that nothing
was unattainable to him who is bound to win.
The Brewsters remained at the fashionable watering-place until the
middle of September, when Mr. and Mrs. Manning went abroad for an
extended tour. Allison returned to Smith College, at Northampton,
where she had two years more of study before her, and the banker
settled himself in his winter home on Madison Avenue.
Thus another twelve months passed. John Hubbard still continued,
apparently, to prosper in his worldly affairs, while he seemed to
have utterly forgotten his enmity against Gerald.
But from time to time Gerald observed that his employer seemed
preoccupied, and wore an anxious look. He was often taciturn, and
occasionally harshly impatient, while, upon two or three occasions,
he made strenuous efforts to tide over the meeting of certain
obligations, which both surprised and troubled his confidential
clerk.
Then there came a day, just after the close of Allison’s school
year, that carried dismay to the hearts of all of the banker’s
friends. He dropped senseless in his office just before the closing
of the bank, and was borne to his home paralyzed and speechless.
Eminent physicians were summoned, and every known remedy employed
for his relief. His debility was purely physical, however--his
mental faculties appearing to be as keen as ever.
Meantime, John Hubbard assumed the control of affairs at the bank,
though, of course, under the authority of Mr. Brewster, and now
Gerald began to realize that the tentacles of this human octopus
were beginning to close around both himself and his employer.
From time to time the expert would call his attention to the fact
that there were mistakes in his work. He could never account for
these errors--he could have sworn that his work had been correctly
done; but upon reviewing it, he was forced to confess that
appearances were against him.
“You’ll have to be more careful, Winchester,” Mr. Hubbard sternly
remarked to him one day in December, when, for the third time, he
pointed out to him some discrepancies; “this kind of thing has been
going on too long altogether; I have been looking back over some
of Mr. Brewster’s private accounts, and I find numerous errors
covering more than a year. If the man were well, I should disclose
the fact to him and have you instantly discharged.”
Gerald flushed crimson. He could have taken his oath that he had
never made an error in his work--at least, an uncorrected one.
“Mr. Brewster has never complained,” he began, when his companion
curtly interrupted him with the trite remark:
“Figures don’t lie, young man.”
“Figures have been made to lie,” was on the tip of Gerald’s tongue
as he darted a suspicious look at his companion; but he resolutely
closed his lips and made no response.
But a little later, while John Hubbard was at luncheon and he was
left alone in the office, he proceeded to examine some of these
criticized accounts, and was almost paralyzed upon discovering how
his books appeared to compromise him.
There were evidences that some one had been critically examining
them, for there were frequent marginal notes, while the balance
seemed to show that he had been cleverly and systematically robbing
his employer for a long time.
With a very white face and sternly compressed lips, Gerald took a
powerful magnifying-glass and brought it to bear along the various
columns of figures.
“I thought so!” he hoarsely muttered, at last, “they have been
tampered with! Some of my threes and sixes have been changed to
eights; my ones, in numberless instances, have been made into twos,
fours, and sevens, but so skilfully that no one would believe me
if I should assert it--I could never prove that he did it. Great
Heaven! and it has been going on for many months. This was what he
had in mind when he crushed my rose and warned me to beware of a
similar fate.”
Gerald was sick at heart as he realized that he was standing
upon the brink of a fearful precipice and was powerless to help
himself--how he had become entangled in a skilfully contrived net
from which there seemed to be no possible way of escape.
If Mr. Brewster had been well he would have appealed at once to
him, stated his suspicions, and tried to point out the changes he
had discovered in the figures, but in the man’s present precarious
condition he dared not trouble him with the matter, even if he were
allowed an interview with him.
A week passed, and then, to his great joy, he received a note from
Mr. Brewster asking him to call upon him at a certain hour the
following Saturday, as he had a special commission for him.
He presented himself at the Brewster mansion promptly at the hour
mentioned in the note, and was at once conducted to his employer’s
presence.
He was greatly shocked at the change in the man--not having seen
him since his attack--for he had grown very thin, and seemed to
have aged many years. Mr. Brewster greeted him very kindly, and
seemed heartily glad to see him, but almost immediately broached
the business concerning which he had desired to see him.
“Gerald, I have a secret commission with which I wish to entrust
you,” he began, a grave look settling over his face. “I know that
I can trust you absolutely, and that is why I have chosen you in
preference to any one else.”
“Thank you, sir,” Gerald replied, with a glowing face, his sorely
wounded heart greatly comforted by this assurance.
“You have been inside the bank vault?”
“Yes, sir, often; you have frequently sent me to the drawer which
contains your private documents.”
“Yes--yes, I know, and ---- But before I go on I want you to give
me your word of honor that no one shall ever learn from you the
secret I am about to commit to you,” said the banker.
“Certainly, sir, I will promise that I will never betray any
confidence that you repose in me,” Gerald responded.
“That is enough,” he said. “Now, behind that drawer, which contains
those private papers, there is a small, secret vault, which I had
built there to store certain valuables during my absence from town.
No one save the man who made it, and I, know that it is there; no
one would suspect it, for, on removing the drawer, there seems to
be nothing but the brick wall behind it. On the contrary, there
is an iron plate, or panel, painted to resemble bricks. At the
bottom of this panel there is a small slot. You will insert in this
a tiny key which I shall give you; turn it half-around, and the
panel will spring outward. You can then swing it upward, when you
will discover behind it two boxes, take them out, being careful to
relock the panel, and bring them to me.”
“Yes, sir; I shall be very glad to do as you wish,” Gerald
remarked. “But how will I be able to get into the vault and remove
the boxes without the knowledge of others?”
“I have keys that will admit you to it, and you must go to the bank
when no one else is there,” said the banker, with a slight frown,
as if he did not exactly relish this part of the commission.
“To-morrow will be Sunday, and you had best go as soon after you
have had your breakfast as you can; then come directly to me. Be
careful not to excite the suspicion of any one whom you may meet,
for one of the boxes contains valuable jewels that belonged to
Mrs. Brewster. I want them for Allison; the other holds nothing of
special value to any one except myself.”
Mr. Brewster had become very white during this last statement, and
Gerald feared he was talking too much for his strength.
“Here are my keys,” he continued, after a moment, and, taking a
bunch from a drawer in the table beside him, “this one unlocks the
outer door, this the inner; the brass one opens the gate of the
iron fence; the heavy one will admit you to the vault; this unlocks
my private drawer, and the little, flat one the panel that conceals
the secret vault. Quite a lesson to learn, isn’t it?” he added,
with a slight smile; “but I think you will have no difficulty in
remembering how to use them.”
“No, sir; four of them I know already, so that leaves only those
belonging to your drawer and the secret vault to be distinguished,
and that is easily done,” Gerald replied, as he examined each key
attentively.
“Very well, then, I shall look for you here again some time
to-morrow forenoon. I want to get those boxes into my possession
as soon as possible,” Mr. Brewster observed, with a faint but
impatient sigh.
“I will try to be here some time between ten and eleven o’clock,”
Gerald returned, then added, losing some of his color: “And now,
Mr. Brewster, if you are not too tired, I have something to tell
you about my work.”
“I am not too tired, go ahead,” said the man; whereupon Gerald gave
him a brief account of the conversation that had recently passed
between himself and John Hubbard, and what he had discovered
afterward in connection with his work.
Mr. Brewster listened to him with growing astonishment, never once
removing his eyes from the young man’s face during his recital.
“These are very strange statements, Gerald--very grave statements,”
he remarked, with some sternness, as he concluded.
“They are, indeed, sir, and they involve my honor, my reputation,
and, unless my past dealings with you and my assurance are
sufficient guarantee to you of my integrity, the evidence is there
to prove that I have been doing very crooked business in your
office. The balances are all right, apparently, but the entries, if
examined, would seem to be conclusive testimony that I have been
systematically robbing you. Mr. Brewster, I firmly believe that
those figures have been skilfully changed for the sole purpose of
ruining me.”
“By whom?”
“That, of course, I cannot say positively, but I have long known
that Mr. Hubbard dislikes me,” was the somewhat reluctant reply.
“Do you mean to imply that John Hubbard would doctor the accounts
to injure you?” exclaimed Mr. Brewster, with a start.
“I have no right to assert that he would, for I cannot prove
it; but some one has done it, and he is the only one who, to my
knowledge, has had access to the books. I can only say I know he
hates me, and--I also say, Mr. Brewster”--and the honest fellow
here straightened himself with conscious integrity, and lifted an
unfaltering look to his employer--“that I have never made a false
entry upon one of your books.”
Neither was conscious of the presence of a third person in the room
as the banker heartily responded:
“I am sure you have not, Gerald; I would stake my fortune upon your
integrity and upon your unswerving faithfulness to my interests. I
will look into this matter just as soon as I am able. Ah! Allison,
I did not hear you come in. What is it, dear?” he concluded,
turning, as he caught the sound of her step behind him.
She came forward, blushing and smiling a welcome to Gerald.
“It is time for your beef broth, papa,” she said, as she placed a
small salver containing a cup before him.
Then she turned to our hero with outstretched hand.
“What an age it is since I saw you last, Gerald,” she remarked, and
then flushed again as she recalled her last interview with him.
He returned her greeting with what warmth he dared in Mr.
Brewster’s presence, but with a hand-clasp that spoke volumes.