AMOS PALMER FINDS HIS SON.
"What do you mean?" Doctor Wesselhoff sharply demanded, and losing color
himself at the sudden suspicion that he also might have been the dupe of
a set of rogues.
"Haven't you seen an account of the affair in the papers?" Doctor Huff
asked. "They were full of it for two weeks after you left home."
"No, I did not see a New York paper from the time I started until I
returned. I could not get one, even if I had not had too many cares and
been too much absorbed in my wife's critical condition to think of or
read news of any kind," Doctor Wesselhoff replied. Then, with a sudden
thought, as he turned again to Ray: "Young man, is not your name Walton?"
"You know it is not," said Ray, with a flash of indignation. "I told you,
the day I came, that my name is Palmer--Raymond Palmer."
"He is the man!" cried the assistant, starting up and regarding the
invalid with a look of fear, "and it was Amos Palmer, the diamond
merchant, who was robbed!"
"Can it be possible!" exclaimed the physician, amazed at this
intelligence. "That woman--Mrs. Walton--told me that he was her son, only
at times he denied his own name, so when he told me his name was 'Palmer'
that day I imagined it only a freak produced by his mania."
Ray had been regarding the man curiously during this speech. He surely
did not appear like a person who would have anything to do with so daring
a crime as that of which he had accused him. He was strikingly noble in
appearance; his manner was quietly dignified and self-possessed--he had a
finely shaped head, a kind eye, a genial smile, while his astonishment
and dismay over what he had just been told seemed too genuine to be
feigned.
"Did you not expect to find me in your reception-room? Did no lady inform
you of my arrival on the day I came here?" Ray inquired, searching his
face earnestly.
"No, I saw no lady--a servant came to tell me that a gentleman was
waiting to see me," responded the doctor.
"Then she must have gone immediately out and made off with all possible
speed," said Ray, musingly.
"But," Doctor Wesselhoff continued, as if he had not heard his remark,
"the woman I spoke of--a Mrs. Walton--called upon me the previous day and
arranged with me to take you as a patient. She was upward of fifty years
of age, her hair was white, and she had the look of one who had known
much care and sorrow."
He then proceeded to relate all that had occurred during the interview,
and Ray was astonished at the daring scheme which had been so
successfully planned and carried out.
When the physician concluded his account, Ray gravely and positively
declared:
"I do not know any person by the name of Walton. If this woman told
you that she was my mother, she uttered a falsehood, for I have no
mother--she died more than ten years ago, and her place has been
filled, as well as another could fill it, by a housekeeper. My home is
No. 119 ---- street; but, Doctor Wesselhoff, if you still doubt my
statements, and imagine that I am laboring under a peculiar mania, you
can easily ascertain the truth by bringing my father here to prove
my assertions. I beg that you will do so without delay, for he must be
suffering the most harrowing suspense on my account."
Doctor Wesselhoff looked very much disturbed, for the more he talked with
Ray, the more fully convinced he was that he had been unconsciously
lending his aid to further an atrocious crime.
But as he saw how pale and weary his patient was, he was recalled to a
sense of his duty as a physician.
He arose and kindly took the young man's hand.
"I am very much afraid," he said, "that we are both the victims of a
complicated plot; but let me assure you that so far as I am concerned,
the wrong to you shall be made right without a moment's delay. Now I want
you to go to sleep, and while you are resting I will seek an interview
with the man whom you claim as your father."
Ray's weak fingers closed over the hand he held in a friendly clasp at
this assurance, and he was at once inspired with implicit confidence in
the physician.
"Thank you," he said, a trustful smile wreathing his thin lips, "I will
be obedient and go to sleep, but I shall expect to find my father here
when I awake."
"If Amos Palmer is your father, you will surely find him by your bedside
after you have had your nap," Doctor Wesselhoff responded, and with
another hand-clasp he withdrew from the room.
In less than five minutes Ray was sleeping quietly and restfully.
Half an hour later the great brain specialist rang the bell of Amos
Palmer's handsome residence. The servant who answered it replied in the
affirmative when asked if the gentleman of the house was in, and ushered
the visitor into a richly furnished reception-room leading from the hall.
A few minutes later a sorrowful, despondent-looking gentleman entered,
and politely, although somewhat absently, saluted his caller.
He did not look much like the upright, energetic and affable gentleman
who had so courteously served the elegant Mrs. Vanderbeck a few weeks
previous.
His face was wan and drawn with anguish, his cheeks were hollow, his eyes
sunken, heavy and lusterless; his form was bowed, his steps feeble and
faltering.
After saluting Doctor Wesselhoff, he threw himself, with a heavy sigh,
into a chair, where he immediately became absorbed in his own painful
thoughts, appearing to forget that there was any one present, or that
there were duties devolving upon him as host.
"Mr. Palmer," said the physician, breaking in upon his sorrowful reverie,
"my name is Wesselhoff, and I have called to consult with you regarding
the very peculiar circumstances connected with your son's disappearance."
Amos Palmer was like one electrified upon hearing this. He sat erect, and
stared with wondering eyes at his companion, and began to tremble
violently.
"My son! my son!" he cried, in quavering tones. "Oh, if you can tell me
_anything_--if you can tell me that he--lives," the word was scarcely
audible, "you will put new life into me."
"Tell me his full name, if you please," said Doctor Wesselhoff, who was
scarcely less excited than the trembling man before him.
"Raymond Palmer."
"Describe him to me."
Amos Palmer gave him a minute description of the young man as he appeared
on the day that he had been trapped into the physician's house, even to
the clothing which he had worn, and the doctor was at last convinced
that, all unwittingly, he had assisted in the perpetration of a double
crime.
"Yes," he said, when the eager father had concluded, and feeling that he
must at once relieve the terrible suspense under which his companion was
laboring; "your son lives, and is longing to see his father."
"Oh, then, I have nothing more to wish for--the world will be bright to
me once more, for he was my all, Doctor Wesselhoff--my last, and best
beloved. I have laid six children in the grave, and all my hopes were
centered in Ray. My boy! my boy! I am content to know that you live--that
you are not lost to me!"
The over-wrought man broke down utterly at this point, bowed his face
upon his hands, and sobbed almost convulsively.
Doctor Wesselhoff was also greatly moved at the sight of his emotion, but
as soon as he could control himself sufficiently, he remarked:
"I have a very strange story to tell you, Mr. Palmer, and you may be
inclined, as your son was at first, to suspect me of complicity in
the affair. I am, however, willing to be subjected to a rigorous
investigation, if you demand it; but let me assure you that the moment
I discovered the truth, I saw that I, as well as you, had been wretchedly
imposed upon, and I was anxious to do all in my power to right the
wrong."
He then related all that he had told Ray, and all that we already know,
while Amos Palmer listened with wonder to the unfolding of the bold and
cunning scheme which had so baffled the police and the best detectives in
New York.
"It is the most devilish plot I ever heard of if you will excuse the
expression," Mr. Palmer excitedly exclaimed, when his visitor had
concluded his narrative.
"It certainly was a very brazen one, yet very cleverly arranged, and just
as artfully carried out," Doctor Wesselhoff remarked; and then he
inquired, while he regarded his companion with earnest interest: "But
have you no doubts as to the truth of my statements? Have you no
suspicions that I might also be concerned in the plot?"
"No, sir; I am impressed that you are a man of truth and honor. I have
heard of you, and know something of your reputation; and I can but feel
thankful that my son fell into your hands, rather than into the clutches
of some unprincipled villain," Mr. Palmer replied, with a hearty
confidence in his tones that could not be doubted. Then he added: "Excuse
me for a few moments while I order my carriage, then you shall take me at
once to my son."
Amos Palmer seemed a changed man now that hope throbbed once more in his
heart, and he started up with all his old-time vigor and energy to leave
the room.
But Doctor Wesselhoff stopped him.
"My own carriage is at your door--do not wait for yours; come at once
with me and I will have you sent home when you are ready to return; but
Mr. Palmer, you must be prepared to find your son greatly changed, for he
has been very ill; the worst is over, however, and he will gain rapidly
now, if we take proper care of him."
In a few moments the two men were driving rapidly toward the physician's
residence, while they more fully discussed the affair of the robbery, and
the skillful way in which it had been managed.
"I would never have believed that a woman could have nerve enough to
attempt anything so daring," Mr. Palmer remarked. "I should have been
willing to take my oath that she--this Mrs. Vanderbeck, so called--was
just what she pretended to be--a refined and cultured lady accustomed to
the most polished society. She did not overdo her part in the least, and
had one of the most frank and beautiful faces that I have ever seen. Her
figure and carriage were superb, her manner charming. The only peculiar
thing about her was her hair, which was a decided red, as were also her
eyebrows, and lashes. She had fine teeth, and she was very richly, though
modestly, dressed. She came to the store apparently in her own carriage,
with a colored driver, and everything seemed to indicate that she
belonged in the ranks of high life."
"The woman who came to me, to make arrangements for the treatment of her
pretended son, was a much older woman than you describe," Doctor
Wesselhoff said, in reply, "her hair was almost white, her face was
somewhat wrinkled, and she appeared sad and depressed. It must be that
there were two women concerned in the affair, for my visitor remarked
that since her son, when under the influence of his mania, was so
determined to have her arrested, she would send her sister, whom she
called Mrs. Vanderbeck, with him."
"Hum--maybe my adventuress was the same person in disguise," Mr. Palmer
thoughtfully observed.
"But you said she had red hair, brows, and lashes, and was quite young in
appearance; while Mrs. Walton was old and wrinkled, with white hair; the
brows and lashes I did not notice particularly, but they certainly were
not red," Doctor Wesselhoff responded, doubtfully.
"Well, whether they were one and the same or not, the whole thing is a
perplexing puzzle, and I would sacrifice a good deal to have it solved,"
said Mr. Palmer. "But," he added, with a sigh, "I am afraid that it never
will be, for the thieves, in all probability, left New York immediately,
and were sharp enough to remove the diamonds from their settings before
attempting to dispose of them."
"They may overreach themselves yet and be brought to justice," Doctor
Wesselhoff remarked. "But is there no way of identifying the diamonds
unset?"
"Some of them--two in particular--could be identified; they were a pair
of magnificent solitaires, and I am sure my expert could tell them
anywhere," Mr. Palmer replied.
"It is strange that you were not suspicious of a person who wished to
purchase so many diamonds at one time," said the physician, thoughtfully.
"She did not pretend that she wished to buy all that she laid out, only
that her selections from the lot were to be made with the advice and
sanction of her husband; and in this way--don't you see?--the clever
sharper got possession of a great deal more than she would otherwise have
done."
"True, she showed herself very shrewd. But your son has in his possession
a clew, though a very slender one, which may possibly lead to a solution
of the mystery. It is a small piece of cloth that was torn from the
woman's dress," Doctor Wesselhoff returned.
"I am afraid that won't amount to much, for, probably, if the woman is
still in New York, which I doubt, she will never wear that dress again,"
Mr. Palmer responded. "But," he continued, cheerfully, "I shall not
complain as long as I am to have Ray back again. I fully believed that he
had been murdered. My loss I can never tell you what anguish I have
endured, for will of course eat deeply into the profits of my business
for this year, but that is of comparatively little consequence. I am more
troubled to have such wickedness prosper than I am about any pecuniary
loss."
The carriage stopped just then, and the conversation ended. Both
gentlemen alighted, and Doctor Wesselhoff led the way into his house, and
straight up to the chamber which Ray occupied.
He had not aroused once during the doctor's absence, but awoke almost
immediately after their entrance, and the meeting between the father and
son was both joyful and tender.
Neither had ever before realized how much they were to each other, or
believed that life could be so dark if they were separated.
Doctor Wesselhoff would not allow them to talk very much that night, for
he said that his patient was liable to have a relapse if he became too
weary or was subjected to too much excitement; so Mr. Palmer was
permitted to remain only a short time with him, but promised to return
again at as early an hour in the morning as the physician would allow.
He visited Ray twice every day after that, and both father and son were
fully convinced of the truth and honesty of purpose of the noted
specialist, who had given Ray such excellent care, and whose interest
in him continued to increase throughout his recovery.
The Palmers found him very genial and entertaining, and an enduring
friendship grew up between the three.
Ray improved very rapidly, and was able by the end of two weeks to return
to his own home; but, though he was very thankful to be restored to
health and to his father once more he was saddened and dismayed upon
learning of Mr. Dinsmore's sudden death, and that Mona had been deprived
of her inheritance.
He was still more appalled when, upon making inquiries, he could learn
nothing of her movements since leaving her home. No one seemed to know
anything about her--even her friend Susie Leades was in ignorance of her
whereabouts, for Mona had shrunk, with extreme sensitiveness, from
telling any one, save Mr. Graves, of her plans for the future.
Ray did not know who had been Mr. Dinsmore's man of business, so, of
course, he could not appeal to the lawyer, and he was finally forced to
believe that Mona had left New York.
He could not be reconciled to have her vanish so completely out of his
life, just when he had begun to entertain such strong hopes of winning
her for his wife.
For more than two years he had loved Mona Montague in secret, but only
during the last few months had he allowed himself to show her marked
attention.
She had been in school until the previous June, and he had felt sure that
Mr. Dinsmore would not countenance anything that would distract her mind
from her studies, therefore he had waited, with commendable patience,
until she graduated before making it manifest that he experienced any
especial pleasure in her society.
Mr. Dinsmore and Mona had spent the months of July and August at Lenox,
Massachusetts, and Ray, having learned their plans, arranged to be there
at the same time. Therefore the young people had seen considerable of
each other during the summer, and before their return to New York, Ray
Palmer had begun to have strong hopes that he should eventually win the
beautiful girl for his wife.
They met several times in society during the early winter, and Mona
always appeared so happy with him that he gradually grew bolder in his
attentions, and finally formally requested the pleasure of acting as
her escort in public. This request was granted, as we know, and cordial
permission to call was also given him, and when Ray left Mona that night,
after their attendance at the opera, he resolved to seek Mr. Dinsmore
at an early day and ask the privilege of paying his addresses to his
niece with the view of winning her.
But he was very unhappy over his fruitless efforts to find her, and he
grew strangely silent and depressed, greatly to his father's surprise,
even while he was every day gaining in health and strength.
Finally Mr. Palmer questioned him outright as to the cause; and Ray,
longing for both sympathy and advice, frankly told him the truth.
"That is too bad, Ray, and I am extremely sorry," the royal-hearted man
remarked. "I should be very sorry to have you disappointed in such a
matter, but do not be discouraged; we will do our best to find the
young lady, and then you shall bring her home as soon as you please."
"Then you approve of my choice?" Ray remarked, with some surprise at his
father's interest and even anxiety to have him succeed in his suit.
"Why not? I do not know Miss Montague, but I am sure that a niece of Mr.
Dinsmore, and reared with the care which he would be likely to bestow
upon her, could be objectionable to no one. Mr. Dinsmore was one of the
noblest of men," said Mr. Palmer, with hearty commendation.
"But Mona is only a penniless girl now," Ray responded, determined that
his father should fully comprehend the situation. "Mr. Dinsmore's wife
has claimed all his property, I have been told, and even if I could find
and win her, my bride would have to come to me without any dowry."
"That wouldn't trouble me in the least, my boy, provided the girl herself
was all right," his father gravely returned. "We have enough," he
continued, smiling, "without desiring to enrich ourselves by marrying
money. You shall choose your own wife, Ray, be she rich or poor, plain or
beautiful; only find a sensible little woman who will be a true wife and
make you happy, and I shall be more than satisfied."
"Thank you, father," Ray gratefully returned. "I wish there were more men
like yourself in the world--there would surely be fewer ill-assorted
marriages if there were. Only let me find Mona, and I will soon convince
you that she will be a girl after your own heart, as well as mine."