SEEKING INFORMATION
Though he was very busy the next day, Tom could not help thinking,
several times, of the scene he had witnessed the night before, when he
received the check.
“I wish I had listened more closely to what Sandow said,” he mused.
“If I had known it was he, I would have done so. Let me see, it was
something about bringing the money and the papers, and that he had
a hard time getting the money because the old doctor was getting
suspicious. Then he said something about trusting to his faulty memory,
and that was all.
“I’m sure he must have referred to Dr. Spidderkins. I don’t like the
look of that Sandow, and his wife isn’t much better. From what I’ve
seen they have the old gentleman right under their thumb, and I guess
they could almost make him believe black was white, because he can’t
remember five minutes at a time, unless it has to do with some book. I
wish I knew whether they were doing anything to make trouble for him.
Maybe I’d better speak to some one about it.”
But, the more Tom thought of it, the less he liked to mention it to
any member of the firm for whom he worked. He had not been there long
enough to venture on any confidences, and he realized that the lawyers
were too busy to pay attention to any matters that did not directly
concern them.
“I guess I’ll ask a few questions of Charley Grove,” he concluded.
“I’ll see him this noon at the restaurant.”
Tom made no mistakes that morning, and was in better spirits when he
went out for his noonday meal. He found his chum waiting for him, and,
when he had a chance, spoke of his trip the night previous, to get the
check.
“That woman thought she was going to put me off,” said Tom, “but
I guess I surprised her, when I offered to go for the cash. I met
Barton Sandow in Mr. Leeth’s office,” he added, as though it was of no
importance.
“I don’t like that fellow,” replied Charley. “He was in our office
to-day, buying some stocks, and he called me down because I didn’t get
his number quick enough for him. I didn’t dare say anything, ’cause
the boss was standing right there, but I took my own time making the
connection for him.”
“Who did he call up?” asked Tom.
“Why, that fellow you were telling me about--Mr. Leeth. But I couldn’t
hear what he said, as I had to take care of a lot of calls from
customers then. We have five trunk lines on our switchboard. How many
have you?”
“Only three. Say, do you suppose there’s any truth in what you told me,
about Sandow wanting to get hold of Dr. Spidderkins’ money?”
“Shouldn’t wonder,” answered Charley easily. “You could take most
anything you wanted away from Doc. Spidderkins now, and he wouldn’t
know it, if you gave him a book to look at. He’s daffy on books, every
one says.”
“But he’s a very fine old gentleman.”
“You bet he is. Better that Barton Sandow. I wish I had a chance to
call Sandow down, for being so fresh with me,” added Charley, for the
matter of the telephone call seemed to rankle in his mind.
“He called me a mean name, once,” said Tom, telling of the day when he
had gone into Sandow’s office, to look for work.
That afternoon, just before closing time, Mr. Boise, the head of the
law firm, came out to the switchboard.
“How are you getting on?” he asked Tom, pleasantly.
“Pretty well, sir.”
“That’s good. I think you’ll learn to be quite expert in time. I want
you to do a little errand for me on your way home,” he added, and Tom
saw that he had a bundle of papers in his hand. “Do you know where Dr.
Spidderkins lives?”
“Why, yes,” replied Tom, wondering what was coming.
“That’s good. Then you’re acquainted in the Back Bay section?”
“Not very well, but I carried books to the doctor’s house several
times, when I worked for Mr. Townsend.”
“Oh, yes, I had forgotten about that. Well, I wish you would take these
papers to him, and tell him that I have attended to all his requests.
The land matters are all in good shape now, and the estate books are
all balanced. Can you remember that, or shall I write a note?”
“Oh, I can remember it. Are you his lawyers?”
“Yes; we do considerable business for him.”
“A chum of mine--Charley Grove, whom Dr. Spidderkins used to
attend--says the doctor is quite rich,” went on Tom, thinking this a
good chance to get some more information.
“Yes; he is quite wealthy,” said Mr. Boise. “His estate is a large
one. Most of it came to him through his father, and his brother left
him some when he died. That, together with the doctor’s own property,
makes him very well-to-do. But he is so forgetful that we have to make
memoranda of everything for him.”
“I’ve had some experience with his short memory,” remarked Tom, smiling
at the recollection.
“Now don’t forget to impress the message on him,” cautioned Mr. Boise,
“and watch where he puts the papers you give him. Just as likely as not
he’ll call on me some day, and say he never received them.”
“I will,” promised Tom, and, when it came time for him to lay aside
the telephone head-piece, he did so with a feeling of relief, for he
welcomed the long trolley ride to the Back Bay district, even though it
would bring him home rather late.
Mrs. Sandow opened the door when our hero arrived at the Spidderkins’
mansion.
“Here are some papers for Dr. Spidderkins,” said Tom.
“I’ll give ’em to him, then you won’t have to come in and get mud all
over my clean floors,” she said, scowling at Tom.
“But I have a particular message to give the doctor.”
“Oh, well, then you can come in, I suppose,” but Mrs. Sandow did not
speak very graciously.
“Ah, glad to see you,” greeted the aged physician, who, for a wonder,
did not forget Tom this time. “When are you going to bring me my
books? I ordered some of Mr. Townsend to-day.”
“I’m not there any more.”
“Oh, that’s so. I forgot. Let’s see, you told me where you were
employed, but my wretched memory has made me forget it.”
“I don’t believe I told you,” replied Tom, “but I’m with Boise, Keen &
Cutler. I have brought you some papers from them.”
“Oh, yes. I told them to send up the documents, but I had forgotten
all about it. I have secured quite a rare book, an early edition of
Smollett, and that drove everything else out of my mind. But come into
my study.”
He led the way into a room, the walls of which were lined with row
after row of books. Tom gave him the papers and delivered the message,
then, in obedience with the instructions of Mr. Boise, the lad watched
to see where Dr. Spidderkins would put the documents.
“I’ll lay them on this shelf,” the doctor said, “right under this
volume of Fielding. Ah, that is a rare and valuable work. Then I’ll
remember where the papers are. I picked up that book on Fielding the
same day I got the first edition of Plutarch’s Lives--no, I’m wrong--it
was the day I secured, in a second-hand book store, the complete
edition of Dickens, with the original illustrations. Queer, how some
things will slip out of my mind.”
“Do you think you’ll remember where the papers are now, doctor?” asked
Tom.
“Oh, yes, indeed I will. I have occasion to look at the volume of
Balzac every day, and----”
“But I thought you said you was going to put them under a book on
baseball fielding.”
“Baseball fielding! Oh! Ha! Ha! I see. You thought I was going in for
sport! No, no, my dear young friend; Fielding is the name of an early
English novelist. But I did say Fielding, and not Balzac. There! My
memory is getting more and more wretched every day!”
“I guess I don’t know much about books,” admitted Tom.
“Well, you’ll learn. I’m much obliged to you, for bringing the papers.
There, I’ve put them under Mr. Fielding’s book--not the baseball
fielding, remember, Tom--and they’ll be safe until I want them, and I
shan’t forget where they are.”
“If you do I’ll try and help you remember,” said the boy with a laugh.
Tom bade the doctor good-night, and started out of the door. As he
opened the portal, and stepped into the faintly-lighted hall, he
thought he heard the rustle of a woman’s dress, and he was almost sure
he saw a figure hastily disappearing around the corner.
“That must have been Mrs. Sandow,” thought Tom, “and I believe she was
listening at the doctor’s door. There’s something queer going on in
this house, and I wish I knew what it was.”