MARTIN MAKES A BUSINESS ENGAGEMENT.
Martin was agreeably surprised at the attention paid him by his new
friend. There are some who have no difficulty in making friends at first
sight, but this had not often happened to him. In fact, there was very
little that was attractive or prepossessing about him, and though he
could not be expected to be fully aware of that, he had given up
expecting much on the score of friendship. Yet here was a stranger, who,
to Martin's undiscriminating eyes, appeared quite the gentleman, who had
given him a cigar, paid his dinner-bill, and treated him with a degree
of attention to which he was unaccustomed. Martin felt that he was in
luck, and if there was anything to be made out of his new friend he was
determined to make it.
They turned down a side street, perhaps because the stranger's course
led that way, perhaps because he was not proud of his new acquaintance.
"So you've had poor luck," he remarked, by way of starting the
conversation.
"Yes," grumbled Martin, "you may say that. Things have all been ag'inst
me. It's a pretty hard rub for a poor man to get a livin' here."
"Just so," said the other. "What's your business?"
"I'm a carpenter."
"And you can't find work?"
"No," said Martin. "Besides," he added, after a pause, "my health aint
very good. Hard work don't agree with me."
He might have said that hard drinking did not agree with him, and this
would have been rather nearer the truth. But he was afraid his new
friend would offer to find him employment as a carpenter, and for this
he was not very anxious. There had been a time when he was content to
work early and late, for good wages, but he had of late years led such a
shiftless and vagabond life, that honest industry had no more attraction
for him, and he preferred to get his living by hook or crook, in fact
in any way he could, rather than take the most direct path to a good
living by working hard for it.
"What is your name?"
"James Martin. What's yours?"
"Mine," said the stranger, pausing, and fixing his eyes thoughtfully
upon Martin; "well, you may call me Smith."
"That aint a very uncommon name," said Martin, thinking he had
perpetrated a good joke.
"Just so," said the stranger, composedly. "I've been told so often."
"Well, Mr. Smith, do you think you could help me to some light business
that wouldn't be too hard on my health?"
"Perhaps I might," said the other. "What do you think you would like?"
"Why," said Martin, "if I only had a little capital, I could set up a
small cigar store, or maybe a drinkin' saloon."
"That would be light and genteel, no doubt," said Smith, "but confining.
You'd have to be in the store early and late."
"I might have a boy to stay there when I wanted to go out," suggested
Martin.
"So you might," said the other. "There doesn't seem any objection, if
you can only raise the capital."
This was rather a powerful objection, however, especially as Mr. Smith
offered no encouragement about supplying the capital himself. Martin saw
this, and he added, "I only mentioned this. I aint any objection to
anything else that's light and easy. Do you think of anything I could
do?"
"I may be able to throw something in your way," said Mr. Smith. "But,
first, I must ask you a question. Can you keep a secret?"
"Yes," said Martin, "just as many as you like."
"Because the business which I have to propose is of rather a
confidential character, and a great deal depends on its being kept
secret."
"All right; I'm your man then."
"When I saw you in the restaurant," said Smith, "it struck me that you
might answer our purpose. You look as if you could be trusted."
"So I can be," said Martin, pleased with the compliment. "I'll never say
a word about the matter. What is it?"
"You shall learn presently,--that is, if my partner thinks we had better
engage you."
"Where is your place of business?"
"We will go there. Let us jump into this horse-car."
They had reached Eighth Avenue, and entered a car bound downwards. When
the conductor came along, Smith said, "I pay for two," indicating
Martin. This was fortunate; for Martin's purse was at a low ebb, his
entire stock of money being limited to fifty cents.
They rode some fifteen minutes, at the end of which Smith signalled to
the conductor to stop.
"We get out here," he said to Martin.
Martin jumped out after him, and they turned westward down one of the
streets leading to the North River.
"Is it much farther?" asked Martin.
"Not much."
"It's rather an out-of-the-way place for business, isn't it?" remarked
Martin, observing that the street was lined with dwelling-houses on
either side.
"For most kinds of business it is," said his new acquaintance; "but it
suits us. We like a quiet, out-of-the-way place."
"Are you in the wholesale business?" asked Martin, whose curiosity began
to be considerably excited.
"Something of that sort," answered the stranger. "Ah, here we are!"
The house before which he stopped was a brick dwelling-house, of three
stories. The blinds were closed, and it might have been readily supposed
that no one lived there. Certainly nothing could have looked less like a
place of business, so far as outward appearance went, and Martin, whose
perceptions were not very acute, saw this, and was puzzled. Still his
companion spoke so quietly and composedly, and seemed to understand
himself so well, that he did not make any remark.
Instead of pulling the bell, Mr. Smith drew a latch-key from his pocket,
and admitted himself.
"Come in, Mr. Martin," he said.
Martin stepped into the entry, and the door was closed.
Before him was a narrow staircase, with a faded stair-carpet upon it. A
door was partly open into a room on the right, but still there was
nothing visible that looked like business.
"Follow me," said Smith, leading the way up stairs.
Martin followed, his curiosity, if anything, greater than before.
They went into a front room on the second floor.
"Excuse me a moment," said Smith.
Martin was left alone, but in two minutes Smith returned with a tall,
powerful-looking man, whose height was such that he narrowly escaped
being a giant.
"Mr. Martin," said Smith, "this is my partner, Mr. Hayes."
"Proud to make your acquaintance, I am sure, Mr. Hayes," said Martin,
affably. "I met your partner this mornin' in an eatin'-house, and he
said you might have a job for me. My health aint very good, but I could
do light work well enough."
"Did you tell Mr. Martin," said the giant, in a hoarse voice that
sounded as if he had a cold of several years' standing, "that our
business is of a confidential nature?"
"Yes," said Martin, "I understand that. I can keep a secret."
"It is absolutely necessary that you should," said Hayes. "You say you
can, but how can I be sure of it?"
"I'll give you my word," said Martin.
The giant looked down upon Martin, and ejaculated, "Humph!" in a manner
which might be interpreted to convey some doubt as to the value of
Martin's word. However, even if Martin had been aware of this, he was
not sensitive, and would not have taken offence.
"Are you willing to take your oath that you will never reveal, under any
circumstances, anything connected with our business?"
"Yes," said Martin, eagerly, his curiosity being greater than ever.
There was a Bible on the table. Hayes cast his eyes in that direction,
but first said something in a low voice to Smith. The latter drew a
small brass key from his pocket, and opened a cupboard, or small closet
in the wall, from which, considerably to Martin's alarm, he drew out a
revolver and a knife. These he laid on the table beside the book.
"What's that for?" asked Martin, with an uneasy glance at the weapons.
"I'll tell you what it's for, my friend," said the giant. "It's to show
you what your fate will be if you ever reveal any of our secrets.
Perhaps you don't want to take the risk of knowing what they are. If you
don't, you can say so, and go."
But Martin did not want to go, and he did want to learn the secrets more
than ever.
"I'm ready," he said. "I'll take the oath."
"Very well, you understand now what it means. Put your hand on the book,
and repeat after me: 'I solemnly swear, on the penalty of death by
pistol or knife, never to reveal any secret I may have imparted to me in
this room.'"
Martin repeated this formula, not without a certain shrinking, not to
say creeping, of the flesh.
"Now that you have taken the oath," said Smith, "we will tell you our
secret."
"Yes," said Martin, eagerly.
"The fact is," said Smith, in a low voice, "we are counterfeiters."
"You don't say so!" ejaculated Martin.
"Yes, there's a light, genteel business for you. There are all ways of
making a living, and that isn't the worst."
"Does it pay pretty well?" asked Martin, getting interested.
"Yes, it's a money-making business," said Smith, with a laugh; "but
there's a little prejudice against it, and so we have a very quiet place
of business."
"Yes, I see," said Martin.
"You see the world owes us a living," continued Smith, "as you remarked
this morning, and if it doesn't come in one way, it must in another."
"Isn't it dangerous?" asked Martin.
"Not if it's carefully managed."
"What do you want me to do?"
"Supply money to our agents chiefly. It won't do to have too many come
to the house, for it might excite suspicion. You will come every
morning, receive money and directions from one of us, and then do as you
are bid."
"How much will you give me?"
"What do you say to a hundred dollars a month?"
"In good money," said Martin, his eyes sparkling with pleasure.
"No, of course not. In money of our manufacture."
Martin's countenance fell.
"First thing I know I'll be nabbed," he said.
"Not if you are careful. We'll give you instructions. Do you accept our
terms?"
"Yes," said Martin, unhesitatingly.
"Of course you take a risk. No gain without risk, you know. But if you
are unlucky, remember your oath, and don't betray us. If you do, you're
a dead man within twenty-four hours from the time you leave the prison.
There are twenty men bound by a solemn oath to revenge treachery by
death. If you betray our secret, nothing can save you. Do you
understand?"
"Yes," said Martin, whose mind was suitably impressed with the absolute
necessity of silence. The representations of his new friends might or
might not be true, but, at all events, he believed them to be in
earnest, and their point was gained.
"When do you want me to begin?" he asked.
"To-day; but first it will be necessary for you to be more decently
dressed."
"These are all the clothes I have," returned Martin. "I've been
unfortunate, and I haven't had any money to buy good clothes with."
"Have we any clothes in the house that will fit this man?" asked Smith
of his confederate.
"I will go and see."
The giant soon returned with a suit of clothing, not very fine or very
fashionable, but elegant compared with that which Martin now wore.
"I guess these will fit you," he said. "Try them on."
Martin made the change with alacrity, and when it had been effected,
surveyed himself in a mirror with considerable complacency. His
temporary abstinence from liquor while at the Island had improved his
appearance, and the new suit gave him quite a respectable appearance. He
had no objection to appearing respectable, provided it were at other
people's expense. On the whole, he was in excellent spirits, and felt
that at length his luck had turned, and he was on the high road to
prosperity.