When old Mr. Dexter reached his home that afternoon, he called one of
his servants and ordered him to gather all of his nephew’s possessions
together and pack them up, to be sent away to an address which he would
give them. At the same time he informed them that if his kinsman should
call, he was not to be admitted to the house on any pretense whatever.
Having done this, the old gentleman sat down in his library and wrote a
letter to his lawyer, who was also a warm personal friend of many years’
standing, and invited him to visit him the next day, in order that they
might dine together, and at the same time discuss an important matter of
business. This business was nothing less than the drawing up of a new
will, which should deprive his renegade kinsman of any chance of
profiting by his death. Never in his whole life had the warm-hearted and
benevolent old gentleman been so stirred with shame and indignation as
he had that day by the sudden discovery that his nephew, who was of his
own flesh and blood, and bore his name, was making his livelihood by
loaning money to poor and unfortunate people at usurious rates of
interest. That a man of proper breeding and right feelings should take
advantage of the necessities of the unfortunate, stirred Mr. Dexter’s
soul to its inmost depths.
As for the money-lender, he realized as soon as his uncle had left the
office and slammed the door behind him, that in all probabilities he
would never see the inheritance of which he had for so many years based
his hopes. However, there was one chance left to him, and he determined
to try it before abandoning all expectation forever. He must see Bruce
at once, for it was possible that, through this boy, he might once more
obtain influence over his uncle. Taking his hat and cane, he left his
office and hurried away to the address which Bruce had given him, and it
was there that he learned that the boy had found employment in the very
truck-house in which his father had worked before him, and where he had
often visited him.
“That was stupid enough in me,” he remarked, angrily, to himself, as he
strolled along toward the quarters. “I might have known that the boy’s
first thought after his father’s death would have been to look for some
sort of a job in the department. If I had only made inquiries there
instead of sending that rascally newsboy up into the country, I would
have found him long ago, and might have had him out of the way by this
time, if I had seen the necessity for it.”
As he entered the building, Charley Weyman recognized him, and went
upstairs to look for the boy. “He’s down there, Bruce,” he said,
significantly.
“Who’s down there?” demanded the young lad, looking up from the book
which he was reading.
“That tall chap, with the scar on his face, that you’ve talked about so
often. And, mark my words, he means you no good. But you go down and see
what he has to say, and then tell me about it before you give him any
promise or agree to do anything that he asks you to.”
“But perhaps he’s not going to ask me anything,” replied the boy. “It
may be that he’s come here to do me a favor.”
“Don’t you believe it!” retorted Weyman. “That man never goes anywhere
unless it is to get something from somebody. If he offers to do you a
favor, be mighty careful how you accept his offer.”
Bruce went downstairs, and was very cordially greeted by the mysterious
man who had caused him so many sleepless nights since the first time he
had heard of him. He was surprised now to find him so agreeable and
kindly in his manner, and in a few moments he forgot his good friend’s
caution, and found himself talking to the money-lender as freely and
easily as if he had known him all his life. He told him all that he knew
of his origin, and mentioned the fact that he hardly knew anything about
his father’s family or friends. “I came down here soon after my father’s
death, and the chief took me on here, got my pension for me, and has
kept me here ever since. When I’m old enough I hope to join the
department, and perhaps rise in it.”
“What pension is that?” asked Mr. Dexter, with a sudden gleam of
interest in his face.
“The department pays it to me because my father was killed in the
service,” replied the boy.
“Then there is no doubt about your being the son of Frank Decker, I
suppose,” rejoined the other, in what seemed to Bruce like a tone of
disappointment.
“Of course not,” he replied.
“Very well, then,” continued the visitor, “so much the better for you,
for you will have no trouble in establishing your identity. As I told
you the other day, a legacy left to your father by some distant
relatives in England has fallen to you; but in order to get it you will
be obliged to go yourself to London, prove who you are, and collect the
money in person. I knew your father very well indeed, and it was simply
on account of my friendship for him that I have taken the trouble to
look you up. I sent that little rascal of a newsboy up to the country to
search for you; and if he had done what I told him to do, or if you had
come to me at once, you might have obtained possession of your
inheritance by this time, to say nothing of saving me a great deal of
unnecessary trouble. However, I suppose you could not have helped that.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Bruce, very humbly, “I went up to your house two or
three times but could not learn your address, and it was only when
Skinny came back to the city that I found out where your office was. It
was very kind of you, I’m sure, to take so much trouble for me, and when
I get this money I will very gladly pay you for what you have done.”
“Never mind the pay,” exclaimed the money-lender, magnanimously, “I’m
willing to do a great deal for the son of my old friend. Now, I suppose
you have not enough money to pay for your journey to London and back,
have you?”
Bruce was forced to admit that he had not sufficient funds for such an
undertaking, and on learning this, the visitor went on: “Very well, I
will advance you enough for your passage there and back and other
necessary expenses, and you can repay me when you receive your legacy. I
suppose you might get it by sending a representative there, or engaging
some well-known London lawyer, but that would cost you just as much as
to take the trip yourself, and besides those English people are not like
Americans, and are very slow in their business methods. And, after all,
a boy of your age ought to enjoy a little trip to Europe and back. It
won’t come in your way very often, especially when there’s nearly five
thousand dollars at the other end of the route.”
Nearly five thousand dollars! To the young fire-lad, who had been
accustomed all his life to the most rigid economy, this seemed like an
enormous sum of money. And the prospect offered him so unexpectedly of
obtaining it for himself, and at the same time making a journey to
England almost stunned him. He was aroused from his stupor by Mr.
Dexter, who asked him how soon he would be able to start.
“Any time you say,” he replied, and then added hastily, “provided, of
course, that Chief Trask has no objection.”
At the mention of the chief’s name Mr. Dexter’s brow clouded, and he
exclaimed in what Bruce thought rather a contemptuous and disagreeable
tone, “Well, if he is a true friend of yours, he won’t object to your
making such a journey as I propose, and if he does object, I should
think five thousand dollars would be worth more to you, than anything
you’ve got here.”
“I’ll ask him,” said the boy, “and let you know to-morrow. I don’t think
he’ll put any obstacle in my way.” And with this understanding the two
parted, the money-lender returning to his office, and Bruce going at
once to lay the matter before his friends, Charley Weyman and the chief.
Both these men declared, after careful consideration of his case, that
he could not do better than accept Mr. Dexter’s proposition, provided
that gentleman paid him in advance enough to cover the expenses of his
journey to England and back. “You don’t risk anything, you see,” said
Weyman, “and he does. He wouldn’t send you off on a wild-goose chase, if
it cost him anything to do so. In fact, you’ve everything to gain and
nothing to lose, and it’s not every day in the year that a boy like you
gets the chance to travel in foreign parts at somebody else’s expense.
Just tell him that you’re ready to go, and keep a sharp look-out for
anything that may turn up.”
The next day, accordingly, Bruce called on Mr. Dexter at his Eldridge
Street office, and made known to him the decision of his friends. “I’m
ready to go whenever you think best,” he added, “but, of course, as I
haven’t any money, you will have to give me a return ticket, and money
enough for my expenses while I’m there.”
“Certainly, my boy,” said Mr. Dexter, with his most winning smile, “and
as there is a steamer that sails next Saturday for Southampton, I will
engage your passage on that. Get ready to sail at three o’clock on that
day, and, meantime, I advise you to keep on at your regular work and not
mention to anybody what I have told you. Some one might start up and
contest that will and keep you out of your rightful dues for ten years.
When you get your hands on the money, you may talk about it as much as
you please.”
And so the young boy returned to the truck quarters, and resumed his
regular work, although he could scarcely drive out of his mind the
wonderful intelligence that the money-lender had conveyed to him.
Meantime, Samuel Dexter seated in his Eldridge Street office, was
writing a long letter to the old gentleman who had driven him from his
house.
“There!” he exclaimed, as he sealed the envelope, “I think that letter
will bring him to terms if nothing else will.”