After a while Grant learned the particulars about Herbert's
disappearance. He had gone out to play in the street about three
o'clock in the afternoon. Generally he waited for Grant to
return-home, but during his absence he had found other companions.
When his father returned home, he inquired of the housekeeper:
“Where is Herbert?”
“He went out to play,” said Mrs. Estabrook, indifferently.
“In the street?”
“I believe so.”
“He ought to be in by this time.”
“Probably he went to walk with some of his companions. As he had no
watch, he might not know that it is so late.”
This seemed very plausible to Mr. Reynolds.
“Yes,” he said; “Herbert seems lost without Grant. He will be glad
to see him back.”
To this Mrs. Estabrook did not reply. She had learned, to her cost,
that it would not be politic to speak against Grant, and she was not
disposed to praise him. She seldom mentioned him at all.
The dinner bell rang, and still Herbert had not returned. His father
began to feel anxious.
“It is strange that Herbert remains so long away,” he said.
“I shouldn't wonder if he had gone to Central Park on some
excursion,” returned the housekeeper calmly.
“You think there is nothing wrong?” asked the broker, anxiously.
“How could there be here, sir?” answered Mrs. Estabrook, with
unruffled demeanor.
This answer helped to calm Mr. Reynolds, who ordered dinner delayed
half an hour.
When, however, an hour--two hours--passed, and the little boy still
remained absent, the father's anxiety became insupportable. He
merely tasted a few spoonfuls of soup, and found it impossible to
eat more. The housekeeper, on the contrary, seemed quite
unconcerned, and showed her usual appetite.
“I am seriously anxious, Mrs. Estabrook,” said the broker. “I will
take my hat and go out to see if I can gain any information. Should
Herbert return while I am away, give him his supper, and, if he is
tired, let him go to bed, just finding out why he was out so late.”
“Very well, sir.”
When Mr. Reynolds had left the house a singular expression of
gratified malice swept over the housekeeper's face. “It is just
retribution,” she murmured. “He condemned and discharged my stepson
for the sin of another. Now it is his own heart that bleeds.”
Only a few steps from his own door the broker met a boy about two
years older than Herbert, with whom the latter sometimes played.
“Harvey,” he said, “have you seen Herbert this afternoon?”
“Yes, sir; I saw him about three o'clock.”
“Where?” asked the broker, anxiously.
“Just 'round the corner of the block,” answered Harvey Morrison.
“Was he alone?”
“No; there was a young man with him--about twenty, I should think.”
“A young man! Was it one you had ever saw before?”
“No, sir.”
“What was his appearance?”
Harvey described Herbert's companion as well as he could, but the
anxious father did not recognize the description.
“Did you speak to Herbert? Did you ask where he was going?”
“Yes, sir. He told me that you had sent for him to go on an
excursion.”
“Did he say that?” asked the father, startled.
“Yes, sir.”
“Then there is some mischief afoot. I never sent for him,” said the
agitated father.
Mr. Reynolds requested Harvey to accompany him to the nearest police
station, and relate all that he knew to the officer in charge, that
the police might be put on the track. He asked himself in vain what
object any one could have in spiriting away the boy, but no probable
explanation occurred to him.
On his return to the house he communicated to the housekeeper what
he had learned.
“What do you think of it?” he asked.
“It may be only a practical joke,” answered the housekeeper calmly.
“Heaven grant it may be nothing more! But I fear it is something far
more serious.”
“I dare say it's only a boy's lark, Mr. Reynolds.”
“But you forget--it was a young man who was seen in his company.”
“I really don't know what to think of it, then. I don't believe the
boy will come to any harm.”
Little sleep visited the broker's pillow that night, but the
housekeeper looked fresh and cheerful in the morning.
“Has the woman no feeling?” thought the anxious father, as he
watched the tranquil countenance of the woman who for five years had
been in charge of his house.
When she was left alone in the house Mrs. Estabrook took from her
workbasket a letter, bearing date a month previous, and read slowly
the following paragraph: “I have never forgotten the wrong done me
by Mr. Reynolds. He discharged me summarily from his employment and
declined to give me a recommendation which would secure me a place
elsewhere. I swore at the time that I would get even with him, and I
have never changed my resolution. I shall not tell you what I
propose to do. It is better that you should not know. But some day
you will hear something that will surprise you. When that time
comes, if you suspect anything, say nothing. Let matters take their
course.”
The letter was signed by Willis Ford.