THE STEAMER "WOODVILLE"
Mr. Randall, now that his money was lost, declared that he had no
business in Shoreham, and it was useless for him to go there. The six
thousand dollars belonged to his bank, and, having an opportunity to
put this sum in circulation, where it would be "kept out" for several
weeks, he was making this journey to accomplish the business. He
facetiously remarked that it was likely to be kept out longer than
was desirable.
Lawry was so sure Mr. Randall had dropped the pocketbook on the
shore before he got into the ferry-boat, that he insisted upon
returning to Pork Rock and having the ground searched. Though the
bank director was satisfied that the pocketbook was safe in his
possession when he entered the bateau, he was willing to return,
since the object of his journey had been defeated, and Lawry pulled
him back to the landing-place. The ground under the tree, and over
which Mr. Randall had walked while waiting for the ferryman, was
carefully examined, but the lost pocketbook could not be found.
The bank director had very little to say after he left the ferry-boat;
but he was very thoughtful, as a man who had lost six thousand
dollars might reasonably be. After the search on shore was completed,
he walked off toward the village without mentioning his intentions,
but he looked as though he purposed to do something.
"What's the matter, Lawry?" asked Mrs. Wilford, who had been
watching the movements of Mr. Randall and her son from the window, as
she came out of the house.
"The gentleman has lost his money--six thousand dollars," replied
Lawry.
"Lost it!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilford, recalling the conversation with
her husband at dinner.
"His coat fell overboard, and the pocketbook dropped out."
"Fell into the lake," added she, with a feeling of relief.
"Yes; father swam out and got the coat, but the money was gone."
Mrs. Wilford returned to the house. Perhaps she had some misgivings,
and felt more than before that those who make haste to be rich are
often ruined; but she said nothing. Lawry was perplexed at the
disappearance of the money. Mr. Randall had proved that a pocketbook
with nothing but paper in it would not sink within a reasonable time.
If the lost treasure had fallen into the water, he would certainly
have found it. If it had been dropped on shore or in the ferry-boat,
it would not have disappeared so strangely.
Lawry was so positive that the pocketbook was still in the ferry-boat,
or on the shore, that he renewed the search, and carefully scrutinized
every foot of ground between the house and the landing-place, but
with no better success than before. By this time the ferry-boat,
which had been favored by a good wind during the last half-hour,
returned.
"What do you suppose became of that pocketbook, father?" asked
Lawry, as he stepped into the boat.
"I don't know. I don't believe he lost any pocketbook," replied John
Wilford.
"He says he did, and I saw it myself."
"Perhaps you did, but I don't believe there was any six thousand
dollars in it. If there had been, he wouldn't have thrown it about as
he did."
"He says there was six thousand dollars in the pocketbook."
"I don't believe it. It's a likely story that a man would throw down
his coat, with all that money in the pocket, on the drop. In my
opinion it's some trick to cheat his creditors out of their just due."
"It don't seem possible."
"That's the truth, you may depend upon it. That's the way men make
money."
Lawry was by no means satisfied with this explanation. He went into
the boat, and carefully searched every part of it. His father watched
him with considerable interest, declaring that it was useless to look
for what had not been lost.
"You had better go up and see Mr. Sherwood now," said Mr. Wilford.
"I have been up, and he was not at home."
"You better go again, then."
"He has gone to Port Henry after the new steamer."
"Has he got a pilot?"
"Not that I know of."
"He can't get one at Port Henry," said the ferryman.
"I suppose he is going to pilot her himself."
"He will pilot her on the rocks, then. He don't know anything about
Lake Champlain. Why don't you row up the lake till you meet the boat?"
"I was thinking of doing so, but I can't keep this money out of my
mind."
"Why need you trouble yourself about that?" demanded the father
impatiently.
"It was lost in your boat, and I am very anxious that it should be
found. I'm sure Mr. Randall thinks you've got it."
"Well, he searched me, and found out that I hadn't got it--didn't
he?" added Mr. Wilford, with a sickly smile.
"I don't like to have you suspected of such a thing, and for that
reason I want to find the money."
"You can't find it, and I tell you he hasn't lost any money. He's
going to cheat the bank or his creditors out of six thousand dollars."
"I don't believe he would do such a thing as that."
"We have looked everywhere for the money, and it can't be found.
It's no use to bother any more about the matter. It's gone, and
that's the end of it--if he lost it at all. You have looked all over
the ferry-boat, and it isn't there. If it had been floating in the
lake, you couldn't help seeing it. Now, you better take your boat and
row up the lake till you meet the steamer."
"I'm going pretty soon."
"Better go now. I'm going up after a drink of water. If you don't go
pretty soon, you will be too late to do any good on board the
steamer," said Mr. Wilford, hoping, if he left the spot, his son
would depart also.
Lawry hauled in the rowboat, ready to embark; but, before he did so,
he made one more search in the bateau for the pocketbook. The timbers
of the ferry-boat were ceiled over on the bottom, leaving a space for
the leakage between the inner and the outer planking. Near the mast
there was a well, from which, with a grain-shovel, the water was
thrown out. Lawry examined this hole, feeling under the planks, and
thrusting the shovel in as far as he could. This search was
unavailing, and he gave it up in despair. As he stepped on shore, his
curiosity prompted him to look under the platform outside of the boat.
The pocketbook was there!
In a space between the planks, a foot above the surface of the
water, and the same distance from the side, the pocketbook was thrust
in. It could not be seen from the inside of the boat, nor from the
platform; and it could not have got there of itself.
Lawry's face turned red, and his heart bounded with emotion, for the
situation of the pocketbook pointed to but one conclusion. It had
been placed there by his father, who had evidently taken it from the
pocket of the coat, and concealed it, either before or after the
garment had fallen into the water. He was appalled and horrified at
the discovery. He knew that his father was discontented with his lot;
that he was indolent and thriftless; but he did not think him capable
of committing a crime.
He reached under the platform, and took the pocketbook from its
hiding-place. It was perfectly dry; it had not been in the water.
John Wilford had probably taken it from the coat pocket, and after
thrusting it into the aperture beneath the drop, had let the platform
fall into the water for the purpose of dislodging the coat, and
making it appear that the money had been lost in the lake.
The pocketbook seemed to burn in Lawry's fingers, and he returned it
to the place where he had found it; for he was confused, and did not
know what to do. He stood, with flushed face and beating heart, on
the shore, considering what course he should take. He could not think
of exposing his father's crime, on the one hand, or of permitting him
to retain the money, on the other.
After long and painful deliberation, he decided to take the
pocketbook, follow Mr. Randall, and return it to him, telling him
that he had found it under the drop of the boat. He was about to
adopt this course when his father came out of the house, and walked
down to the ferry-boat.
"Not gone yet?" said Mr. Wilford.
"No, sir; that money has troubled me so much that I could not go,"
replied Lawry.
"What's the use of bothering your head about that any longer?" added
the father petulantly.
"It troubles me terribly."
"Let it go; it can't be found, and that's the end of it."
"But it can be found."
"Why don't you find it, then?"
"I have found it, father!"
"What!"
"It's in a crack under the platform," replied Lawry.
"You don't mean so!" exclaimed the ferryman.
"It's no use to talk round the barn, father; the pocket-book is just
where you put it."
"Where I put it? What do you mean, Lawry?"
"There it is in the crack under the drop, a foot above the water. It
did not wash in there of itself. Oh, father!"
Lawry, unable longer to control his feelings, burst into tears.
"What are you crying about, Lawry? Do you think I hid the pocketbook?"
"I know you did, father," sobbed Lawry.
"Do you accuse me of stealing?" demanded Mr. Wilford, with a weak
show of indignation.
"I don't accuse you of anything, father; but there it is."
"You mean to say that I stole it?"
"Oh, father!"
"Stop your whining, Lawry! What possessed you to poke round after
what did not concern you? Now, shut up, and go off about your
business."
"You will not keep it, father?"
"I haven't got it. If you have found it, I suppose there is time
enough to think what is best to be done."
"I don't want any time to think of it," replied Lawry; and before
his father could prevent him, he took the pocketbook from its place
of concealment.
"What are you going to do with it?" demanded Mr. Wilford.
"I'm going to find Mr. Randall, and give it back to him, as quick as
I can."
"What's the use of doing that?"
"Because it's the right way to do."
"That isn't the way to get rich."
"But it's the way to keep honest."
"Give it to me, Lawry."
"What are you going to do with it, father?"
"That's my business."
"I shall give it back to the owner."
"No, you won't, Lawry. Do you want to get me into trouble--to have
me sent to jail?"
"If I give it back to Mr. Randall, there will be no trouble."
"Lawry, I've been poor and honest long enough. I'm going to do as
other men do. I'm going to get rich."
"By keeping this money?" exclaimed the son.
"You needn't talk any more about it; I put the money where you found
it."
"I know you did."
"Give it to me."
"I will not, father, if you mean to keep it."
"I do mean to keep it. Do you think I have run all this risk for
nothing? Give me the pocketbook."
"Don't think of such a thing as keeping it, father," pleaded Lawry.
"I'm going to be rich," replied the father doggedly.
"You know what mother said about making haste to be rich: 'Haste
makes waste.'"
"It will make waste if you don't give me the pocket-book."
"Mr. Randall will not be satisfied till he gets his money, and you
will certainly be found out."
"No, I shall not be found out. I'll go to New York and change off
the money this very night."
"But only think of it, father. You will be a thief. You never will
have a moment's peace as long as you live."
"I never did have, and I shall not be any worse off," said Mr.
Wilford coldly. "There comes your steamer. She hasn't got any pilot
on board; I know by the way she steers. You had better go and see to
her, for she is running right for the Goblins."
Lawry glanced at the _Woodville_, as she appeared rounding a
point, two miles distant.
"If you will go and find Mr. Randall, I will give you the
pocketbook, father," replied Lawry.
"Well, I guess you are right, Lawry, and I'll do it."
"He has gone up to the village," added Lawry, as he handed the money
to his father.