Temple’s manner was sullen as he walked beside Harry and the officer,
handcuffed. He overcame his sullenness, after a while, so far as to
inquire:
“How came you to suspect me of this robbery?”
“Your friend Vernon has confessed it,” answered the officer. “You may
as well know, for it will do no harm.”
“So he betrayed me?” said Temple, bitterly.
“He had no choice. He was trapped himself.”
“Where is he now?”
“In prison, awaiting trial.”
Temple looked better satisfied. He had suspected Vernon of turning
State’s evidence and betraying him.
“But how was he found out?” he asked, after a pause.
“The night you hid the tin box in the wood, there was some one who saw
all that passed.”
“Who was that?” asked Temple, eagerly.
“You will know in due time.”
“Where are you taking me now?”
“To the county jail.”
“Where is the tin box?”
“In the hands of the man from whom you stole it, There, I have answered
your questions, and have no more to say.”
“What do you think will be done with me?” asked Temple, anxiously.
The officer shrugged his shoulders.
“Gentlemen of your profession,” he said, “are generally well informed
on that point. If found guilty, you will be boarded at the expense of
the county for a term of years.”
“Curse the luck!” uttered Temple, savagely, and then was silent.
Philip had left them, and was on his way home, glad to get out of his
predicament, but more incensed than ever against Harry for the
mortification he had put upon him in compelling him to beg his pardon.
“I’ll get even with him, see if I don’t,” he muttered.
When Harry and the officer had lodged their prisoner in jail, the
latter said:
“I nearly forgot to tell you that Mr. Wheeler wishes you to call at his
office to-morrow.”
“In the morning?”
“As you please.”
“I think I will go up by the morning train,” said Harry, after a little
reflection.
“Then you will be likely to meet me on the train. I shall be a
passenger.”
“I will look for you. I shall be glad to have company.”
“By the way, that was very creditable work of yours, ferreting out the
bond robbers.”
“I was lucky, that is all,” answered Harry, modestly.
“Partly so, but you have showed excellent judgment throughout, and
personal bravery.”
“Don’t flatter me, Mr. Pry. You may make me conceited.”
“You ought to be one of us.”
“I don’t think I should like it,” said Harry, slowly.
“Perhaps not, but you’re fitted for it, for all that. Well, good-day. I
shall see you to-morrow.”
“You are getting to be an important business man, Harry,” said Uncle
Obed, when our hero announced that he had a summons to the city next
day.
“What is it all about, Harry?” asked his mother, rather puzzled.
“Let the boy explain in his own good time, Mrs. Gilbert,” said the old
man. “I know he isn’t in any mischief.”
“I may be able to tell you to-morrow evening, mother. It will be
something that will surprise you.”
“I suppose it is all right, Harry, as Mr. Wilkins says so.”
“Yes, mother, I can assure you of that.”
In due time Harry boarded the morning train. He looked through the cars
till he found Mr. Pry, the detective, and took a seat beside him.
It was not long before his attention was called to a smooth, plausible
voice, proceeding from a person who sat two seats in advance of the one
he occupied.
“My dear sir, if it will be any accommodation to you, I will myself buy
your bond, and pay you the market price.”
There was something in the voice, and in the words, that attracted
Harry’s attention and excited his suspicions.
“Excuse me a moment,” he said to the detective, and, passing through
the aisle, reached a point where he could look back at the speaker.
He knew him at once, not only by his face, but by the profusion of
rings upon his fingers. It was the same man that had cheated the poor
farmer by giving him counterfeit money in payment for his coupons.
If, however, he had any doubt, it was set at rest by what followed.
“I don’t know,” said his seat companion, an industrious mechanic;
“perhaps I’d better wait, and sell it in the city.”
“As you please, my friend,” said the young man. “I only made the
proposal thinking I might accommodate you.”
“Is that your business—buying bonds?” asked the mechanic.
“In the city, yes. I am a member of the well-known firm of Chase &
Atkins. Of course, you have heard of them.”
“Ye-es,” answered the mechanic, doubtfully.
“I am Mr. Chase. We do a general banking and brokerage business. Let me
see, what is the denomination of your bond?”
“Eh?”
“I mean, of what size? Is it a fifty, or a hundred?”
“It’s only a fifty, sir. It was a present to my wife. Now she wants to
use a little money, and so she has got me to sell it.”
“We give rather higher prices than most brokers,” said Chase, smoothly.
“How can you do that?” asked the mechanic, who was a man of good common
sense.
“Well, you see, we ship ’em to Europe, and make a handsome profit. It
would be for your advantage to sell to me; but you must act your own
will.”
The mechanic began to think more favorably of the proposal, and asked
one or two more questions. Finally he said:
“Well, I don’t know but I might as well. Have you got money enough with
you?”
Chase took out a plethoric pocketbook, stuffed with bills, and called
attention to it, smilingly:
“We bankers always have to be well provided with money.”
The mechanic looked respectfully at the owner of so much money.
“I dare say it’s more than I could earn in a year,” he said.
“I dare say you are right, my friend,” said the young man.
“Very well. Count out the money, and the bond is yours.”
The exchange was made, and both parties seemed well satisfied.
Chase deposited the bond in an inside pocket and then, saying,
carelessly, “I’ll go into the smoking car for a few minutes,” rose from
his seat.
But in the meantime Harry had returned to his own seat, and whispered a
few words in the ear of the detective.
The latter sharply scrutinized the young man who called himself Chase,
and said, in a low voice:
“I know him now. He’s an old offender. I thought there was something
familiar in his appearance. I’ll look after you, my fine fellow.”
He waited till the exchange had been effected, and the young man was on
the point of leaving the car.
Then he rose, and, hurrying forward, placed his hand on the young man’s
shoulder.
“A word with you, sir,” he said.
“Really, sir, I don’t remember you.”
“Perhaps not. I remember you. Do me the favor to return that bond to
the man from whom you obtained it.”
“It is mine. I have paid for it.”
“With counterfeit money.”
“Do you mean to insult me?” demanded Chase; but there was a sudden
pallor on his face and a tremor in his voice.
“That will do, Jimmy Neal. I told you I knew you. That is an old trick
of yours.”
“Who are you?” asked the detected swindler, in a faltering voice.
“Pry, the detective.”
“Will you let me go if I restore this bond?”
“No; there is another case I must inquire into—that of a farmer from
whom you bought some coupons a day or two since, paying him in the same
worthless rags. Sit down here,” pointing to a vacant seat. “You may
consider yourself under arrest.”
Great was the consternation of the mechanic when he learned how nearly
he had been swindled, and profuse were his thanks to Harry and the
officer.
“Be more prudent the next time,” said the latter, “and don’t sell bonds
to a stranger in the cars again.”
We may as well add that the traveling broker was duly tried, and
sentenced to a term in State’s prison, and that enough good money was
found on him to repay the farmer for the coupons he had imprudently
parted with.
Greatly to his satisfaction, Harry was intrusted with the office of
acquainting Simon Jones with the pleasant fact that his money would be
restored to him.