IN WHICH PHIL VISITS MR. COLLINGSBY AGAIN, AND IS A HERO IN SPITE OF
HIMSELF.
Having run the Marian into the river, I brought her alongside the pier
at her usual landing-place. I was very tired, and my head still ached
severely. I had hardly touched the pier before a man stepped on board
without any invitation, and came aft to the standing-room where I was.
"Who runs this boat now?" demanded he.
"I have been running her for the last few hours," I replied.
"What's her name?"
"Her name is the Marian now. Formerly it was the Michigan."
"All right, then. I attach her, and take possession, in the suit of
Washburn _versus_ Waterford."
"I'm willing; I have no further use for her," I replied. "But what's
the trouble?"
"Mr. Waterford's gone up."
"Gone up where?"
"Failed, and those that can get hold of anything are doing so. I have
got hold of this boat."
"I thought Mr. Waterford was a rich man," I added, glancing at Marian.
"Most people thought so; but he is a bankrupt now. He made some ten or
twelve thousand dollars, they say, in a lucky speculation, and on the
strength of that has had the reputation of being worth a hundred
thousand. He and Mr. Whippleton have been making some bad speculations
in lands, which will not fetch what they paid for them. While they were
looking over the affairs of Mr. Whippleton, who ran away, they found
that Waterford was as deep in the mud as he was in the mire. I have
been on the lookout for this boat since night before last."
"What has been done about Mr. Whippleton's affairs?" I asked, with no
little curiosity.
"His partner has been overhauling his business, and finds that he has
been terribly swindled. Officers have been on the lookout for him since
he left, and telegrams have been sent in every direction. They can't
find him, or even hear of him. He went off in his boat, and they think
now that he has made his way into Canada. Where have you been all this
time with the boat?"
"On a cruise. Are you an officer?" I asked.
"Certainly I am. How could I serve a writ if I were not?"
"Do you know where there is another one?"
"I can find a policeman, I suppose. What do you want of him?"
"I have a prisoner I wish to put into safe keeping."
"Who is he?"
"Mr. Charles Whippleton."
"You don't say so!" exclaimed the officer.
I pulled off the blankets in which the late junior partner had enfolded
himself, and exhibited my prisoner.
"What's the matter with him? Is he sick?"
"He has a sore head. But please to get another officer, and a
carriage."
"Let him get two. I want one," said Marian.
"I don't know you; but I begin to think you are the clerk that
disappeared," added the man.
"I am; I was in the employ of Collingsby and Whippleton."
"Nobody knew what had become of you; but Mr. Whippleton's mother said
you had run away with all her property. The officers are on the lookout
for you also."
"I am at their disposal whenever they want me," I replied, choking at
this disagreeable information.
"Mr. Collingsby thinks you have gone with Whippleton, and that you were
concerned with him in the frauds."
"Does he?"
"Is this lady Miss Collingsby?"
"It is."
"Her father and mother believe she has run away with Mr. Waterford.
There's all sorts of stories floating about. I suppose, if I bring one
of the police, they will arrest you."
"No matter for that; bring him along. If I had been guilty, I should
not have brought Mr. Whippleton back."
The officer departed, and I lowered the mainsail. I told Peter to put
the yacht in good order.
"Can't you untie me now, Phil?" asked Mr. Whippleton.
"Not till the officers come. I don't intend to make any more blunders."
"You have wound me up completely," said he, bitterly, as he glanced
towards the city. "I suppose I must take things as they come."
"Your mother accuses me of running away with her property. How could
that be if she gave you an order for the package?" I inquired.
"I dare say you will get at the whole truth in due time. It is not
necessary for me to say anything more."
And he did not say anything more. He was in pain bodily; but I am sure
his sufferings mentally were infinitely more intense. As I looked at
him, reclining on his couch, I could not help thinking that his mother
was even more to blame for his misfortunes than he was himself. Instead
of filling his mind with Christian principles, she had fed him with the
dry husks of worldly wisdom. She had taught him to get money; that it
was shrewd and praiseworthy to overreach and deceive. His father had
died when he was young, and his mother had had the whole training of
him. Before God, she was responsible, though her neglect and her errors
could not excuse him. I thanked God anew, as I looked at him, for the
Christian teachings of Mr. Gracewood, who had implanted in my soul a
true principle.
The officers came, and Mr. Whippleton was relieved of his bonds, and
permitted to stand up. He could not walk at first, and had to be
assisted to the carriage. I was careful to have his travelling bag
placed in the care of the officers. I had locked it up in the cabin
when I obtained possession of the yacht, for I knew that its contents
would go far towards indemnifying his partner for his losses. At my
request, the officers took the prisoner to Mr. Collingsby's house.
Marian and I went in one carriage, while the officers, with Mr.
Whippleton, occupied the other.
"I tremble when I think of meeting my father," said my fair companion.
"You need not. He will be too glad to see you safe and sound to find
any fault with you."
"I have been very imprudent."
"I know you have; but you meant no wrong. You are fortunate to be able
to return as you are, for Mr. Waterford is a bankrupt, and a mere
adventurer."
"My father was right."
"Fathers are almost always right," I replied, as the carriage stopped
before the house.
I found that Marian was trembling violently when I helped her out. We
were admitted to the library. Mrs. Collingsby was up, but her husband
had not risen yet. The fond mother folded her lost daughter in her
arms, and they wept together.
"Let me call your father," said she, leaving the room hastily.
"You will have a glad welcome from both of your parents, Marian," I
added.
"My mother will not reproach me," said she, as Mrs. Collingsby
returned.
"Where have you been?" inquired the anxious mother, as she took the
hand of her weeping daughter.
"I was deceived, mother."
"But where is Mr. Waterford?"
"I don't know; I have not seen him since day before yesterday."
Mr. Collingsby appeared in a few moments in his dressing-gown, and had
evidently made a very hasty toilet.
"Marian!" exclaimed he, with a degree of emotion of which I had not
supposed him capable.
"My poor child! How anxious I have been about you! for that Waterford
is a scoundrel."
"I know he is, father. You were right," replied Marian, as she sobbed
upon his bosom.
"Where is he now?"
"I don't know."
Mr. Collingsby winked very rapidly; but as it was not dignified to
weep, he did not do so. He glanced at me, and he must have suspected
that I saw his emotion. He was evidently ashamed of it, for he gently
disengaged himself from his daughter's embrace, and fixed his stern
gaze upon me.
"So you have come back, Philips?" said he.
"Yes, sir, I have come back. I had business here, and I took the
liberty to call."
"Where have you been, sir?"
"After Mr. Whippleton."
"So I thought," sneered he. "I suppose it would not suit your purpose
to inform me where he is now."
"On the contrary, it would exactly suit my purpose, Mr. Collingsby. He
is in a carriage at the door, between two officers."
"Don't say anything harsh to Philip, father," interposed Marian,
wounded by his sternness towards me. "It was he who saved me from harm,
and he has brought Mr. Whippleton back, with all the money he stole."
"Do you mean so?"
[Illustration: THE SAD END OF CHARLES WHIPPLETON'S CAREER. Page 317.]
I went to the door, and requested the officers to bring in their
prisoner.
"Is it possible that I have been mistaken in you, young man?" added Mr.
Collingsby, glancing at me again. "I was satisfied that you had run
away with my partner, because you had shared his guilt."
"You were mistaken, sir," I answered, as the officers conducted Mr.
Whippleton into the room.
The prisoner was very feeble, and was placed in an arm-chair. His head
was tied up with a handkerchief, and he looked as miserable as a human
being could. He was not a man of great courage, and his mishaps
appeared to have broken his spirit.
"What's the matter with him?" asked Mr. Collingsby, turning to me.
"He was hurt on the head."
"Philip had a hard battle with him, father; but finally struck him
down, and he fell senseless."
"I ought to add, Mr. Collingsby, that Marian was the bravest girl I
ever saw. I should have lost the battle, and I doubt if you would ever
have seen either your partner or your money, if she had not taken part
in the struggle," I interposed.
"All this makes a very strange story."
"Perhaps you had better hear the rest of it before you judge," I
replied. "I thought it possible, after I left you day before yesterday,
that Mr. Whippleton had gone off in his boat, and I hastened to her
moorings. My supposition was correct."
"We knew he had gone in his boat, but we supposed he would land at some
town on the other side," said Mr. Collingsby. "Officers were sent to
Detroit and Toledo to intercept him."
Marian and I told our story as I have already related it, and we had an
attentive and interested audience.
"But what has become of Waterford?" asked one of the officers. "If he
was left at the creek, he must have gone somewhere."
"He won't go far, for he has not a hundred dollars in the world," said
Mr. Whippleton. "Phil defeated all our plans."
All the party looked at me so earnestly that I am afraid I blushed;
for, conceited as I am, it disturbs me to be made a hero.
"What were your plans, Mr. Whippleton?" asked Mr. Collingsby.
"I suppose I have nothing to gain by concealment," replied the culprit.
"If I had never seen Waterford, I might have been an honest man to-day.
I went into some land speculations with him. We bought two hundred
acres at Bloomvale, confident that the new Blank and Plank Railroad
would pass through the centre of it, for it was one of the routes
surveyed, and we had an assurance that it would be the one adopted.
Instead of coming direct to the city, as we were almost certain it
would, they tapped the North Central, and left our land ten miles from
any road, and good for nothing but farming purposes. We spent ten
thousand dollars in log-rolling in the legislature, and were defeated
in the end. I took forty thousand dollars out of the funds of the firm,
which I intended to replace when I sold my land. Phil's trial balance
first frightened me, and finding that I could not get out of the
scrape, I decided to take what money I could get, and go to China,
where I hoped to win a fortune, and make good my losses here. I had
started for Europe when I left in the Florina, and should have got off
if Phil had not followed me."
I was a hero in spite of myself.