Mr. Graham turned to the broker and addressed further remarks to
him.
“Your statement that four hundred dollars remained to be accounted
for, led me to conclude that they would be found in the possession
of the party who had abstracted the others. I therefore obtained a
search warrant and visited the room occupied by that gentleman,
whose name I believe is Willis Ford.”
This was an unexpected stroke. Ford did not speak, but kept his eyes
fixed upon the detective in evident panic.
“I have just come from Mr. Ford's room,” he resumed. “These are what
I found there.”
He drew from his pocket a long envelope, from which he took four
government bonds.
“Will you be kind enough, Mrs. Estabrook,” said the broker, gravely,
“to examine these bonds and determine whether they are yours?”
The housekeeper took them mechanically and examined them.
“They are mine,” she said; “but I cannot believe Willis took them.”
“I did not,” said Ford, hoarsely, but his eyes were downcast.
“Will you account for their being in your room, then, Mr. Ford?”
inquired the broker, sternly.
“That boy must have put them there. I know nothing of them. I am as
much surprised as you are.”
“We have had enough of this, Mr. Ford,” said the broker, coldly.
“Your guilt is evident. In robbing your stepmother you have
committed a serious crime; but in attempting to throw the guilt upon
an innocent boy, you have been guilty of an offense still more
detestable, and one which I cannot forgive. You cannot remain in my
employment another day. If you will call at the office in the
morning, I will pay your salary to the end of the month. That will
end all relations between us.”
Willis Ford looked like a convicted criminal. For the moment all his
hardihood and bravado deserted him.
“Can this be true, Willis?” wailed his stepmother. “Is it possible
that you took my bonds, and would have left me to an old age of
poverty?”
“No,” answered Ford, with a return of his usual assurance. “I am as
innocent as a babe unborn. I am the victim of a conspiracy. As Mr.
Reynolds is determined to shield his favorite by throwing the blame
on it, I must submit. The time will come when he will acknowledge my
innocence. Mother, I will satisfy you later, but I do not believe
you will think me guilty. Gentlemen, I bid you all good-evening.”
No one spoke as he withdrew from the room, and not even Morrison
offered to follow him.
When he was fairly out of the room, the broker turned to Morrison.
“Mr. Morrison,” he said, “I have a question or two to put to you. I
think you will find it to your interest to answer correctly. Do you
still maintain that these bonds were given you by Grant Thornton?”
“I may as well make a clean breast of it,” said Morrison. “They were
given me by Willis Ford.”
“To satisfy a gambling debt, was it not?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I take it for granted you did not know they were stolen?”
“If I had known it I wouldn't have touched them. I might have been
suspected of stealing them myself.”
“I believe you.”
“You're a gentleman,” said Morrison, gratified that his word was
accepted.
“Of course you have lost the amount which you consider due you. To
be entirely candid with you, I do not feel any sympathy with you.
Money won at play must be classed among ill-gotten gains. I hope you
will realize this, and give up a discreditable profession.”
“I have no doubt your advice is good, sir. Do you want me and Tom
any longer?”
“You are at liberty to go. I am indebted to you for coming. You have
helped to clear up the mystery of the theft.”
“He's a little hard on us, Tom,” said Morrison, as they went down
the front steps, “but he's treated us like a gentleman. That Ford is
a rascal.”
“I think so, too,” Tom assented.
“And I shall never see a cent of that six hundred dollars,”
continued Jim Morrison, ruefully.
“If you'll excuse me, I'll go to my own room,” said Mrs. Estabrook,
pertly. “I want to think quietly of all this.”
“Go, by all means,” said the broker, courteously. “To-morrow morning
your property shall be restored to you.”
Next the detective and the telegraph boy withdrew, the latter rich
by a five-dollar note, which Mr. Reynolds presented him.
Johnny's eyes sparkled.
“That will make mother happy,” he said. “She'll think I am in luck.”
“Keep your eyes open, my boy, and be faithful to your employer, and
this won't be the last piece of luck that will come your way.”
When they were alone Mr. Reynolds turned to Grant and said kindly,
“I congratulate you, Grant, on your complete vindication. Those who
have wickedly conspired against you have come to grief, and you come
out of the trial unscathed. As I am to part with Willis Ford, though
you are not competent to take his place, your duties will be
somewhat enlarged, and I will take care that your compensation shall
be increased.”
“I am afraid, Mr. Reynolds, I already receive more than I earn.”
“That may be, but I am only anticipating a little. How much do I pay
you now?”
“Six dollars a week, sir.”
“I will allow you four dollars more, but this additional sum I will
keep in my own hands, and credit you with. It is time you were
saving something for future use. Will this be satisfactory to you?”
“You are very kind, Mr. Reynolds,” said Grant. “I don't know how to
thank you.”
“Then I will tell you--be faithful in your duties in the office and
continue your kindness to Herbert.”
“Gladly, sir.”
Grant decided not to write to his mother about his increase in
salary. He preferred to wait till his savings amounted to a
considerable sum, and then surprise her by the announcement of his
good fortune. In six months, he estimated, he would have more than a
hundred dollars, and this to the country minister's son seemed a
large sum. At any rate, when he was twenty-one he might hope to be
the possessor of a thousand dollars. This opened to Grant a
brilliant prospect. It was probably all his father was worth,
including all his possessions.
“In spite of my uncle's opposition,” thought Grant, “I think I acted
wisely in preferring business to college. Now I shall be able to
make the family more comfortable.”
When Willis Ford called at the office the next morning Grant was
gone to the post office. As he returned he met Ford coming out with
a check in his hand.
“So it's you, is it?” sneered Ford, stopping short.
“Yes, Mr. Ford.”
“I suppose you are exulting over your victory?”
“You are mistaken,” said Grant. “It was not my wish that anything
unpleasant should happen.”
“I suppose not,” said Ford, in an unpleasant tone.
“For some reason you have shown a dislike to me from the first,”
Grant proceeded. “I don't know why. I have always treated you with
respect and tried to do my duty faithfully.”
“You are a little angel, to be sure.”
“Have you any objection to telling me why you dislike me?” he asked.
“Yes, I'll tell you. It is because I see how you are trying to worm
yourself into the confidence of Mr. Reynolds. You have plotted
against me, and now, thanks to you, I have lost my place.”
“I don't consider myself the cause of that, Mr. Ford.”
“I do. But you needn't exult too much. I generally pay my debts, and
I shan't forget what I owe you. I will be even with you some day.”
So saying, he walked off, and Grant returned to his work.
“I can't understand why Mr. Ford should hate me so,” he thought.