A DENIAL.
Robert left the superintendent's office in deep thought. He understood
very well that it would be impossible to enforce his claim without more
satisfactory testimony than his father's letter. If any one had been
cognizant of the transaction between Mr. Davis and his father it would
have helped matters, but no one, so far as he knew, was even aware that
his father had possessed so large a sum as five thousand dollars. Had
Captain Rushton inclosed the receipt, that would have been sufficient,
but it had probably gone to the bottom with him. But, after all, was it
certain that his father was dead? It was not certain, but our hero was
forced to admit that the chances of his father's being alive were
extremely slender.
Finding himself utterly at a loss, he resolved to call upon his firm
friend, Squire Paine, the lawyer. Going to his office, he was fortunate
enough to find him in, and unengaged.
"Good-morning, Robert," said the lawyer, pleasantly.
"Good-morning, sir. You find me a frequent visitor."
"Always welcome," was the pleasant reply. "You know I am your banker,
and it is only natural for you to call upon me."
"Yes, sir," said Robert, smiling; "but it is on different business that
I have come to consult you this morning."
"Go on. I will give you the best advice in my power."
The lawyer listened with surprise to the story Robert had to tell.
"This is certainly a strange tale," he said, after a pause.
"But a true one," said Robert, hastily.
"I do not question that. It affords another illustration of the old
saying that truth is stranger than fiction. That a letter committed to
the deep so many thousand miles away should have finally reached its
destination is very remarkable, I may say Providential."
"Do you think there is any chance of my father being yet alive?"
"There is a bare chance, but I cannot encourage you to place much
reliance upon it."
"If he had been picked up by any vessel I suppose he would have
written."
"You would doubtless have seen him at home before this time in that
case. Still there might be circumstances," added the lawyer, slowly,
"that would prevent his communicating with friends at home. For
instance, his boat might have drifted to some uninhabited island out of
the course of ordinary navigation. I don't say it is at all probable,
but there is such a probability."
"Is there any chance of making Mr. Davis return the money my father
deposited with him?"
"There again there are difficulties. He may demand the return of his
receipt, or he may continue to deny the trust altogether."
"Won't the letter prove anything?"
"It may produce a general conviction that such a deposit was made,
since, admitting the letter to be genuine, no one, considering
especially the character of your father, can readily believe that in the
immediate presence of death he would make any such statement unless
thoroughly reliable. But moral conviction and legal proof are quite
different things. Unless that receipt is produced I don't see that
anything can be done."
"Perhaps my father might have put that in a bottle also at a later
date."
"He might have done so when he became satisfied that there was no chance
of a rescue. But even supposing him to have done it, the chances are
ten to one that it will never find its way to your mother. The reception
of the first letter was almost a miracle."
"I have no doubt you are right, Mr. Paine," said Robert; "but it seems
very hard that my poor father's hard earnings should go to such an
unprincipled man, and my mother be left destitute."
"That is true, Robert, but I am obliged to say that your only hope is in
awakening Mr. Davis to a sense of justice."
"There isn't much chance of that," said Robert, shaking his head.
"If you will leave the matter in my hands, I will call upon him
to-night, and see what I can do."
"I shall feel very glad if you will do so, Squire Paine. I don't want to
leave anything undone."
"Then I will do so. I don't imagine it will do any good, but we can but
try."
Robert left the office, making up his mind to await the report of the
lawyer's visit before moving further.
That evening, the lawyer called at the house of the superintendent. Mrs.
Davis and Halbert were in the room. After a little unimportant
conversation, he said:
"Mr. Davis, may I ask the favor of a few minutes' conversation with you
in private?"
"Certainly," said the superintendent, quite in the dark as to the
business which had called his guest to the house. He led the way into
another room, and both took seats.
"I may as well say to begin with," commenced the lawyer, "that I call in
behalf of the family of the late Captain Rushton."
The superintendent started nervously.
"That boy has lost no time," he muttered to himself.
"I suppose you understand what I have to say?"
"I presume I can guess," said the superintendent, coldly. "The boy came
into my office this morning, and made a most extraordinary claim, which
I treated with contempt. Finding him persistent I ordered him out of my
office. I need not say that no sane man would for a moment put
confidence in such an incredible story or claim."
"I can't quite agree with you there," said the lawyer, quietly. "There
is nothing incredible about the story. It is remarkable, I grant, but
such things have happened before, and will again."
"I suppose you refer to the picking up of the bottle at sea."
"Yes; I fail to see what there is incredible about it. If the
handwriting can be identified as that of the late Captain Rushton, and
Robert says both his mother and himself recognized it, the story becomes
credible and will meet with general belief."
"I thought you were too sensible and practical a man," said the
superintendent, sneering, "to be taken in by so palpable a humbug. Why,
it reads like a romance."
"In spite of all that, it may be true enough," returned the lawyer,
composedly.
"You may believe it, if you please. It seems to me quite unworthy of
belief."
"Waiving that point, Robert, doubtless, acquainted you with the
statement made in the letter that Captain Rushton, just before sailing
on his last voyage, deposited with you five thousand dollars. What have
you to say to that?"
"What have I to say?" returned the superintendent. "That Captain Rushton
never possessed five thousand dollars in his life. I don't believe he
possessed one quarter of the sum."
"What authority have you for saying that? Did he make you his
confidant?" asked the lawyer, keenly.
"Yes," said the superintendent, promptly. "When last at home, he called
at my house one day, and in the course of conversation remarked that
sailors seldom saved any money. 'For instance,' said he, 'I have
followed the sea for many years, and have many times resolved to
accumulate a provision for my wife and child, but as yet I have scarcely
done more than to begin.' He then told me that he had little more than a
thousand dollars, but meant to increase that, if possible, during his
coming voyage."
To this statement Squire Paine listened attentively, fully believing it
to be an impromptu fabrication, as it really was.
"Did he say anything about what he had done with this thousand dollars
or more?" he asked.
"A part he left for his wife to draw from time to time for expenses; the
rest, I suppose, he took with him."
Mr. Paine sat silent for a moment. Things looked unpromising, he
couldn't but acknowledge, for his young client. In the absence of legal
proof, and with an adroit and unscrupulous antagonist, whose interests
were so strongly enlisted in defeating justice, it was difficult to see
what was to be done.
"I understand then, Mr. Davis," he said, finally, "that you deny the
justice of this claim?"
"Certainly I do," said the superintendent. "It is a palpable fraud. This
boy is a precocious young swindler, and will come to a bad end."
"I have a different opinion of him."
"You are deceived in him, then. I have no doubt he got up the letter
himself."
"I don't agree with you. I have seen the letter; it is in Captain
Rushton's handwriting. Moreover, I have seen the letter of the owners,
which accompanied it."
The superintendent was in a tight place, and he knew it. But there was
nothing to do but to persist in his denial.
"Then I can only say that Captain Rushton was a party to the fraud," he
said.
"You must be aware, Mr. Davis, that when the public learns the facts in
the case, the general belief will be the other way."
"I can't help that," said the other, doggedly. "Whatever the public
chooses to think, I won't admit the justice of this outrageous claim."
"Then I have only to bid you good-evening," said the lawyer, coldly,
affecting not to see the hand which the superintendent extended. The
latter felt the slight, and foresaw that from others he must expect
similar coldness, but there was no help for it. To restore the money
would be ruin. He had entered into the path of dishonesty, and he was
forced to keep on in it.