FACE TO FACE WITH AN ENEMY.
It was several weeks later when Larry got an afternoon off, and
determined to take a walk in the direction of Martin Pollox’s home on
Forty-first street. He did not expect to call at the house, but hoped
to see Mary Vern at one of the windows.
He was not disappointed. The girl was at an upper window doing some
fancy work, and immediately ran down to the stone steps to greet him.
“Won’t you come in?” she asked, after shaking hands. “Mr. Pollox and
his daughter are both away, and only the servants and myself are home.”
“Thank you, I will come in for a little while,” replied Larry.
He was in his new uniform, with everything carefully brushed, and
looked as handsome as any fireman in New York.
Mary led the way to a back parlor, and motioned him to an easy chair,
while seating herself on a nearby couch.
“I have been expecting you for so long,” she said, pouting prettily.
“Why didn’t you come before?”
“I had my duty to attend to,” he answered. “But tell me, you are quite
alone?”
“Yes. The servants are downstairs and upstairs.”
“Then I want to ask you about Mr. Pollox. Has his treatment of you
changed any?”
At this Mary Vern’s face fell.
“He is not so—so kind as he was,” she faltered. “And Laura is very
strict, too. They hardly let me go out at all.”
“Doesn’t he allow you any spending money?”
“He allows me a dollar a week. Papa used to give me whatever I wanted.”
“Mr. Pollox must be a good deal of a miser.”
“What do you know of him? I am dying to know.”
“I don’t know much; but I suspect a good deal. Do you ever hear him
talking about inventions? Especially about elevator lifts?”
“I heard him talking about a lift once—when another man was here to
see him, a rough-looking fellow called Check something.”
“Check Sluggers?”
“That’s the name.”
“What did he say?”
“Said the patent was all right, and that he now had the money with
which to form his company. I did not hear any more, for Laura made me
go out with her.”
Larry shook his head.
“I am afraid it is as I suspected,” he said.
“What do you suspect?”
“I do not know as I ought to tell you. I do not wish to alarm you
needlessly.”
“But you must tell me, I count you my best friend,” she cried, and
caught his arm affectionately.
“Well, I’ll have to tell you my whole story,” he answered, after some
thought, and did so, not omitting the meeting between Pollox and
Sluggers in the East side tenement.
“Now, it looks to me as if he had my father’s invention,” he went on,
“and it likewise looks to me as if he was going to use your money for
pushing it.”
“Why don’t you get a lawyer to investigate—that’s what my papa used
to do whenever anything went wrong,” said Mary, with something of a
smile.
“There is one trouble; I haven’t any money to spend on lawyers.
Besides, I want to make sure that the lift is really the one stolen
from my father.”
“He has plans in his library—we might look at them,” suggested the
girl.
Resolved to gain all the information possible while he had the chance
to do so, our hero followed her into the library, and she brought out a
portfolio filled with drawings.
The pair were soon busily engaged over the drawings.
“Here they are!” cried Larry presently, and began to study the papers
closely. “The same!” he cried, excitedly.
“What do you mean?”
“These papers belonged to my father. He had them when he came to New
York!”
“You are sure?”
“Yes, I remember them well. Do you see that blot of ink? My sister Kate
and I got that on the paper by accident. We were very sorry, but my
father told us not to mind, that it wouldn’t hurt the drawing in the
least.”
“I wonder how Mr. Pollox got possession of the drawings?”
“He got them away from my father, by fair means or foul,” answered our
hero, and a peculiar glitter came into his eyes. “I’ll know the truth
when we meet.”
“Will you know the truth?” asked a voice from the doorway.
Both turned quickly, to behold Martin Pollox standing there, his face
as pale as death.
“Oh,” screamed Mary, and fell back on a couch, all but overcome.
“So you are Walter Barlow’s son?” said Martin Pollox, taking a step
closer to Larry.
“I am, and I am not afraid to acknowledge it,” was our hero’s firm
reply.
“And you came here to spy upon me?”
“No, no, I invited him in,” interrupted the girl.
“Mary, be silent. I will deal with this young man, who has been filling
your head with falsehoods about me. You must not believe a word he
says.”
“Martin Pollox, have a care!” burst out Larry. “You were concerned in
the disappearance of my father, you cannot deny it.”
“But I do deny it, you foolish boy. Why should I want him to disappear?”
“You knew the value of his invention—you wanted to get possession of
it.”
“It was not his invention, it was mine.”
“It is false!”
“It is true, and I can prove it,” answered Martin Pollox, with a shrewd
look out of his foxy eyes. “I gave him my ideas and got him to work
them out according to my directions. He brought the complete drawings
to New York, along with a model, for which I also paid him. While in
New York, I am sorry to say, he went on a most beastly drunk, and while
in that condition, I presume some thugs stole what money he had left
and took his life.”
“My father never got drunk and you are a villain to say so!” ejaculated
Larry, and angered beyond endurance, he struck out and hit Martin
Pollox a telling blow straight between the eyes.
The man went down as if shot, and lay on the floor of the library like
one dead. Mary Vern let out a scream she could not suppress, and in a
minute more several servants came rushing upon the scene.