MYSTERIES AND SUSPICIONS.
Will had by this time mastered the secret of mushroom growing so
thoroughly that both partners felt justified in expecting a regular net
profit of a thousand dollars a year from it, which meant an income of
five hundred dollars each.
“It relieves my mind wonderfully,” remarked the doctor; “for now
I’m quite sure my poor grandchildren will not go hungry. But, Will,
the earning will never be any bigger. That’s the extent of the
possibilities in mushroom growing. Are you satisfied with the prospect?”
“Certainly I am, Doctor. It’s just that much more than I ever expected
to earn, at my age; and the beauty of it is, I can go to school at the
same time.”
“But when you’ve finished your school days, what then?”
“Why, I haven’t thought much about that,” confessed Will. “But I’ll
have a nice little nest-egg by that time, and can go into business
that will pay better. And Egbert can continue to raise the mushrooms,
because it’s one of the few things the poor fellow is fitted for.”
“Very good,” said the doctor.
“What business would you advise me to get into, Doctor?”
“Let’s wait awhile, and see what happens. Keep busy, my boy; make every
day of your life count, and the future will be sure to take care of
itself.”
That afternoon the good doctor met Mr. Williams, who stopped to
converse with him.
“Do you remember our conversation in regard to Jordan’s relations with
John Carden, which we had about a year ago?” he asked.
“Yes,” was the prompt answer.
“Well, the man’s getting very hard to handle, and I’m afraid I shall
have trouble with him. I wish I knew more about his dealings with
Carden, and was sure about his right to control this process.”
“What’s the trouble?” enquired the doctor.
“Why, when I made my arrangement with Jordan, some ten years ago, he
agreed to place a detailed description of the secret process in my
keeping, as an evidence of good faith and to protect me if anything
happened to him. One of his conditions was that he should have the
sole right to furnish me with a certain chemical that is required to
be mixed with the molten iron in the furnaces, and which gives to
our steel that remarkable resiliency, or elasticity, which is among
its strongest features. The contract allowed Jordan to supply this
chemical at regular market prices, and he has always furnished it
promptly, ordering it shipped directly to him in unmarked packages
from a manufacturing chemist in the east. One day last week we ran
short of this material for the first time, and without saying anything
to Jordan I went to our local drug store and obtained enough of the
chemical the process calls for to complete the batch of steel we had in
preparation. Well, the stuff didn’t work, and the whole lot was ruined.
Also the foreman declared the chemical I obtained was wholly unlike the
chemical Mr. Jordan had always supplied, and that made me suspicious
that something was wrong. When Jordan delivered the new lot I took a
sample of it to the city, and had it examined by competent chemists.
It wasn’t the stuff the written formula calls for, at all, so it is
evident that Jordan had deceived me in this one important ingredient,
which he called by a false name, and has given me a worthless document.
It’s a criminal act, and leaves me at the man’s mercy. So long as I use
the stuff he supplies me with, I turn out the finest steel in all the
world; but without Jordan I couldn’t manufacture a pound of it, for he
alone knows the secret.”
“This seems to be quite serious,” said the doctor, gravely. “If Mr.
Jordan is capable of sharp practice in one way, he may be in another.”
“That’s it. That is why I suspect the story about his loaning John
Carden money, and getting the secret of the process in payment of
the debt.”
The doctor wrinkled his shaggy brows into a deep frown.
“It’s all a mystery,” he said. “I knew John Carden from his boyhood
days up, and a more level-headed fellow never lived. He had plenty of
money when first he began to figure on a new way to make steel, for the
Cardens had been well-to-do for three generations. But while I knew
the man well, I was never so close to him or so intimate with him as
Jordan was. The bank clerk used to sit night after night in the steel
factory watching Carden with his experiments, and I believe it was that
interest in his work that won Carden’s heart.”
“Quite likely,” said Mr. Williams, nodding.
“There is no doubt that John Carden spent a tremendous lot of money on
those experiments,” continued the doctor; “and he told me himself,
before he went away, that while he had finally perfected a process that
was worth millions, he had spent every cent he possessed in doing it.
Yet he made no mention of Mr. Jordan’s having loaned him money, and it
was only after Mr. Carden’s death that I learned from the man’s own
lips that he had been obliged to take over the right to the process to
cancel the debt.”
“I don’t believe a word of it,” declared the manufacturer, positively.
“But, tell me, why did Mr. Carden go away just as he had perfected his
invention?”
“Because he could find no one in America to invest in the business.
The steel men were suspicious of the new invention, and refused to
believe in it. So Carden started for England, with the idea of inducing
some Birmingham capitalist to establish mills to turn out his product.
Carden himself explained this to me, and asked me to keep an eye on his
family during his absence.”
“And he never reached England?”
“Never. He was booked on one of the regular steamships, but changed
his mind at the last moment, for some reason, and shipped on a sailing
vessel, which was wrecked in a heavy storm and all aboard lost.”
“Did you know of this at the time?”
“Of what?”
“That Carden had gone on a sailing ship, instead of a regular line?”
“No. Now that you call my attention to it, I remember that the first
news we had of his being on the vessel was when we learned that the
ship was lost. Then Mr. Jordan, who was terribly distressed, to do
him justice, showed us a letter Carden had written him on the eve of
sailing, thus proving him to have been aboard the fated ship.”
“That is strange,” mused Mr. Williams. “But it must be true after all,
or John Carden would have been heard of many years ago.”
“That is evident,” returned the doctor. “He was too big a man to be
suppressed for long, and he was so fond of his wife and children that
he would be sure to take the first opportunity to communicate with
them.”
“You’re sure no letter ever came?”
“I am positive.”
“Who gets the Carden mail?”
“Why, I believe Mr. Jordan always calls for it at the post-office, if
there happens to be any, and takes it to the house when he goes to
supper.”
“Humph!” exclaimed Mr. Williams, and then the two men looked into one
another’s eyes with a gaze that was startled and not without a gleam of
horror.
“We’ll talk this over again, sir,” said the doctor, abruptly. “Just
now you’ve given me a great deal to think about, and I need time to
consider it properly.”
“I understand,” said the manufacturer, and with a handshake the two
separated.
As the Christmas vacation drew near Will Carden became eagerly
impatient to welcome his absent comrades home again. It had been lonely
in the school room without Theodore and Mary Louise and Annabel; but
now they were all coming home for a two weeks’ holiday, and the young
fellow was looking forward to these days with glowing anticipations.
He had intended meeting his friends at the train, but the girls arrived
earlier than they had been expected, so that Will was busily working in
the yard when he chanced to look up and see a pony-cart being driven at
reckless speed down the road. It was a pleasant winter day, for a clear
sun shone overhead and there had been no snowfall as yet, so the pony’s
hoofs pattered merrily over the hard road and soon brought his driver
within hailing distance.
Of course Will ran eagerly to meet his visitor, and there in the cart
sat a young lady so sedate and dignified that the sight almost took
his breath away. Four months had done much to change Annabel. She was
dressed more becomingly than of old, and her skirts were longer. The
freckles seemed to have entirely disappeared, leaving her face fair as
a lily, except for the bloom lent the round cheeks by the brisk drive
in the wind. Also she seemed to Will’s critical eyes to be slighter and
taller than before, and her red hair, instead of falling in two braids
over her shoulder, was now made into a neat knot at the back of her
head.
These sudden blossomings of young girls are often subjects of wonder,
and we cannot blame Will that he was amazed. But, nevertheless, here
was Annabel again, and the boy smiled a welcome that gained a ready
response, for the young lady sprang from the cart and clasped both his
brown hands in an eager way that proved she was glad to see him. After
all, when he looked into her eyes he could see the same Nan of old, and
outward appearance didn’t count for much.
“I’ve come here first of all,” she said, “because I couldn’t wait a
minute. How big you’ve grown, Will!”
“Why, I didn’t know it,” he replied. “But you, Nan--why, you’re a
reg’lar swell!”
[Illustration: Four months had done much to change Annabel.
Page 129.]
“Fudge!” cried Nan, disdainfully; “you won’t catch me getting swell--or
swelled--I can tell you. But they call us ‘young ladies’ at school, and
we get to be perfect sticks. Oh, but it’s good to be back in Bingham,
where everything’s sweet and simple, and you can do as you please!”
“It’s good to have you back, Nan,” he said.
“Why, there’s Flo!” she exclaimed. “Come here, dear, and kiss me this
minute.”
Flo, who had just come from the house, ran at once into Annabel’s arms,
and Will stood by and grinned with great delight, although something
about the girl filled him with a strange embarrassment.
“Now, sir,” said Annabel, “I’m ordered to bring you back home with me,
and you’re to stay to dinner and spend the evening.”
“I’m not dressed, nor ready,” protested Will.
“Then get ready at once; and while you’re about it I’ll drive Flo over
to the grove. Jump in, dear.”
Flo readily complied with this request, for it was a great treat to
ride in the pony cart; so in a moment they were whirling up the lane as
fast as the fat little pony could prance, and Will, pleased indeed to
be invited to the big house, went in to dress himself carefully for the
occasion.
By the time he was ready, and had kissed his mother good-bye, the cart
was back again; so he took Flo’s place beside Annabel and was driven
slowly away.
They had a good many things to talk over, it seemed; all about
Annabel’s new boarding school and Will’s old high school; and about
their mutual friends in the village, and the new book Annabel had sent
Will to read, and about the mushroom business, in which the girl was
keenly interested, and a good many other subjects.
So the pony had time to get new breath into it’s pudgy body, while the
cart moved leisurely up this road and down that lane until at last they
turned into the grounds of the big house.
Will was warmly greeted by Theodore and Mary Louise, as well as the
younger children, and he first admired Ted’s gray uniform, all
covered with brass buttons, and then turned to gaze shyly at the slim,
beautiful girl whom he hesitated, because she was “such a young lady,”
to address familiarly as Mary Louise.
Mr. Williams, too, was present, happy to have his children all beside
him once more, and the great steel manufacturer was so jolly a
companion, and entered so heartily into the amusements of the young
folks, that not one of them felt any restraint in his presence, but
grieved when he left them.
The big dinner which Nora had prepared for this occasion was one of the
merriest functions the establishment had ever known, and Fanny, the
waitress, and Thomas, the butler, afterwards compared notes and figured
that the party had remained nearly two hours at the table--which was
surely long enough to satisfy the most vigorous appetite. But only
those just home from boarding-school know what it is to sit down to a
good home dinner; and there was so much to talk about that they could
not be eating every minute, either.
Following this evening, which Will long remembered, came two weeks
of constant excitement, during which coasting and sleighing parties,
dances in the evenings and an old-fashioned “hay-ride” to a neighboring
town, kept the young folks of Bingham busy as bees. Will couldn’t be
present at all these gaieties, because the fires had to be kept going
in the heater, and he insisted that Egbert should have a share in the
season’s fun. But Egbert was little inclined to social pleasures, from
many of which his infirmities naturally barred him, so that Will
participated in a good many of the amusements provided for the
holidays.
There was no accident to mar this Christmas season, as there had been
a year before, and the end of the vacation days brought regret to
all. But it is true that pleasures are the more enjoyed when they are
followed by periods of earnest work, and the two girls and Theodore
returned to their schools with rosier cheeks and brighter eyes than
they had brought home with them, while lurking in their hearts were
many pleasant memories that could be called upon, during the months
that followed, to lighten the tedium of study.
During a long walk which Annabel and Will took just before their
parting, they agreed to exchange letters at least once a week, and
afterward the contract was faithfully kept. Will wrote at length of
all the gossip of the little village, and Nan related her experiences
at school; so the letters were always bright and interesting to the
recipients, although others might not have fully understood them.