A FELLOW-CONSPIRATOR.
Stephen Palmer, since his discomfiture, had not visited his step-mother
or Grace. He felt that he hated the whole family, but most of all Paul.
A bully never forgives the one, boy or man, who humiliates him; and
Stephen felt the more mortified and incensed because our hero was so
much younger than himself. Paul was his equal in height, but Stephen
was broader and stronger, and but for his habits of intoxication, which
robbed him of his strength, would have given his young brother a good
deal of trouble.
When Luke Denton first unfolded to Stephen the plan he had in view for
getting Paul into trouble, the young man was delighted.
"What a head you've got, Luke!" he said, admiringly.
"You like the plan, then?" said Luke, who did not object to flattery,
though he had a very poor opinion of Stephen's understanding.
"It's capital! Couldn't be better!" exclaimed Stephen.
"I flatter myself it's rather a clever notion," said Luke,
complacently. "You don't mind your brother being arrested for theft,
then?"
"No, curse him! He sets up for a young saint, lectures me, who am
almost old enough to be his father."
"Still, he is your brother," said Luke, dryly.
"A pretty sort of brother he is! Why, he wouldn't give me a penny to
save me from starvation. The other day, when I was dead broke, and
wanted to borrow a trifle, he made such a row that I had to give it up.
There isn't any love lost between Paul and me."
"What will become of your mother and sister if Paul goes to prison?"
"I don't know, and I don't care," said Stephen, spitting viciously.
"They may starve, for all I care."
"Upon my word, you're a relation worth having," said Luke, lazily
puffing at a meerschaum pipe, for he was somewhat fastidious in his
tastes, and disdained the common clay pipe which Stephen was not above
using.
In truth, he despised the man with whom he nevertheless spent a
considerable part of his time. There was a community of vice between
them, but Luke was by nature refined and Stephen coarse.
"You wouldn't expect me to take the young puppy's place and work for
them, would you?" demanded Stephen.
"If I had a mother and sister, I would do just that," said Denton; and
he spoke with sincerity, for, with all his want of principle, he was
not without domestic affection.
"You wouldn't if you had folks like mine," said Stephen. "They don't
care a pinch of snuff for me."
"Strange, when you are so attractive--have such taking ways," said
Luke, ironically.
"Don't talk that way, Luke Denton, for I don't like it," returned
Stephen, sullenly.
"You must let me have my little joke, Stephen. What would the world be
without innocent mirth and friendly banter? So you like my plan?"
"Yes; but can you do it? Can you play the Quaker?"
"Dost thee doubt it?"
Stephen went off into a fit of laughter, though there didn't seem much
to laugh at.
"Don't be frivolous. Restrain thy mirth, and fix thy mind on serious
things," continued Luke, in a tone which he thought befitting the words.
Again Stephen betrayed symptoms of suffocation.
He went out with Denton, and assisted in dressing him in the costume
which he hired for the successful personation of a quiet Friend.
"You'll do," he said, in high satisfaction.
"Dost thee feel sure, friend Stephen?"
"Oh, you're too funny for anything! Shall I go with you to the depot?"
"Not for a hundred dollars! It would destroy my reputation as a grave
and upright Quaker to be seen in such disreputable company. I will go
my ways alone, friend Stephen, but anon I will return and favor thee
with a report of my success. If I don't fail, that young brother of
yours will spend the night at the station-house."
"When he is tried I'll go and see it. It'll be nuts to me to see the
young sneak tried for theft."
"I'll do my best to carry out your kind wishes for his welfare."
So Luke Denton set out on his errand, and we already know how he
fared--how into the pit which he dug for another he fell himself. It
was he and not Paul that spent the night in confinement.
Stephen waited impatiently for his return. He was eager to hear the
details of the scheme, which he did not doubt would turn out as he
wished. He wanted to hear how Paul acted when confronted with the
charge of theft, and was impatient to have the afternoon pass away and
Denton return.
But he waited in vain an hour or more after the train should be in, and
still his friend did not appear. Still, he did not dream that Denton
himself had got into trouble, and was hindered by circumstances which
he could not control from coming round to see him.
As time passed he became more restless and anxious.
"Denton might have come round to tell me," he muttered, peevishly. "He
might have known that I would want to hear."
After awhile he concluded to go round to Denton's lodgings and see if
he were in. He might be tired, and lying down.
It was not far he had to go. Luke Denton lived in more style than
himself. When he was able he paid his rent, and when his purse was low
he did not pay. If, after a time, his landlady became importunate, he
removed to some other place. Probably he did not pay more rent--perhaps
not as much--in the course of a year as Stephen, for he had a more
persuasive and plausible manner, and could obtain credit on the score
of his appearance, while Stephen's only went against him.
"Is Mr. Denton in?" asked Stephen, of the servant who answered his
summons.
"No, sir."
"I suppose he has been in this evening?"
"No; he went away early in the day, and has not been home since."
"Can anything have happened to him?" thought Stephen. "No, he could
take care of himself. But what a fool I am!" he exclaimed, with a
sudden thought. "Of course he wouldn't come home in those Quaker
clothes. Very likely he's carried 'em back to the place where he
borrowed 'em."
So Stephen went round there, but found the place closed. There seemed
no way of finding out what he wanted to know that night. Yes, there
was. He would go round to the lodgings of Mrs. Palmer, and find out
whether Paul had returned. If not, he would be safe in frightening them
and demanding a loan, for, as usual, he was short of money.
"That's a good idea," he said to himself. "If Paul isn't at home, and
has not been home, I'll know it's all right, and Luke will be round in
good time to tell me how it all came out. Yes, that's the best thing I
can do."
So Stephen bent his steps in the direction of his step-mother's humble
home.
When his knock was heard, Paul said:
"Mother, that's Stephen's knock. Don't let him know where I am. I'll
hide in the next room, and hear what he has to say. I suspect he had
something to do with the attempt that was made to get me into trouble
to-day. Perhaps I can find out."
"If he asks me if you are here, what am I to say? I must tell the
truth."
Paul whispered a few words in his mother's ear, and then hastily
retreated into the inner room, while Mrs. Palmer went forward and
opened the door to her step-son.