BOB LEARNS SOMETHING OF THE PAST
Never had Bob listened to words that interested him more. Here, at
last, was news concerning his identity. His real name was Bob Perry,
and he was the son of an officer. It was not known for certain whether
his mother was dead or not. Supposing she was alive? A lump arose in
Bob’s throat at the mere thought.
“You say you think Barker knows?” he said, quickly.
“Yes.”
“Then I’ll make Barker speak,” was the young photographer’s
determination.
Blake took another pull at his flask and then continued:
“Barker pretends that he is the son of a sister of your father and
Robert Perry--a sister who emigrated to Montana with a man named
Barker.”
“He pretends?”
“Yes, pretends; for Casco found out that old Barker had no children
when he died. That gave him a hold on Barker.”
“I see. Go on.”
“Grogan knew Barker before he turned up at your uncle’s place. He once
told me, when he was full of liquor, that Barker’s real name was Bill
Dix, and that he was a Virginia outlaw, wanted for shooting a man in
Petersburg.”
“And that gave Grogan his hold on Barker?”
“It did. But all three are hard customers, and will do anything to get
money.”
“I’ve found that out. But why did Barker pretend to be my uncle’s
nephew?”
“Because your uncle was a bachelor, very old, and worth a pile of
money. He thought if he could get you out of the way he would come in
for part if not all of the fortune.”
“And how did he get me out of the way?”
“In rather a roundabout fashion. I was working for your uncle at the
time, and Sarah, my daughter, who is married to a young man named Paul
Marks, was working for a woman named Rose.
“This Mrs. Rose had a child sick with scarlet fever, and just at that
time you were similarly stricken. My daughter was told by the doctor
that Mrs. Rose’s child could not live. Barker heard of this, and one
day, when your uncle had to go to New York on important business, he
had the two children changed, paying Mrs. Rose quite some money for the
transaction.”
“Did your daughter know of the exchange?”
“She never knew, but she suspected something was wrong, and often
asked me. The day Mrs. Rose’s child was taken to your uncle’s house
it died, and as every one was afraid of scarlet fever, no one came in
from the neighborhood, and the little one was buried the next day, the
doctor making out a certificate without viewing the corpse.”
“And I was taken to Mrs. Rose’s house?”
“Yes. My daughter wanted to nurse you, but Mrs. Rose pretended to want
to do the nursing herself, and would not let my daughter in the room.
I believe the plan was to poison you, but you got well rapidly, and
Mrs. Rose did not have the heart to poison you, but sent you off to an
orphan asylum instead.”
“But how did I get to old Thompson’s?”
“Barker and Mrs. Rose quarrelled about a month later, and that very
day you were taken from the orphan asylum by somebody, and then I lost
track of you.”
“No doubt it was Barker’s work,” said Bob, remembering what Mary
Ridley, who had worked for Peter Thompson, had told him. “What became
of Mrs. Rose?”
“She died of heart failure brought on by the excitement of the quarrel.
At least that is what they said. Perhaps Barker poisoned her, he is
such a wretch.”
“And did he get possession of my uncle’s property?”
“He got possession of only a small part of it. The rest remains
somewhere tied up in the courts. Barker could not produce satisfactory
evidence in regard to his identity, and besides, he did not have those
papers I spoke about.”
“What papers are they?”
“They pretend to prove that your mother was killed as well as your
father. The package also has a number of letters from Barker to Mrs.
Rose relating to the changing of the children. I was holding them to
get money, but that is all over now.”
“How did you learn of all this?”
“By prying around and following Barker, whom I did not like from the
start. Then I got to drinking, and Barker and Casco made me their tool.
I tried to reform several times, because Sarah wanted me to, but the
appetite for liquor was too strong. But now I am done with it forever!”
As Blake finished, he caught up the flask, which was still half full
of liquor, and hurled it with all his strength against the rocky back
wall of the hut. It was smashed into a hundred pieces, and the liquor
splashed in all directions.
“I swear that from now on I’m going to lead a different life,” went on
the old man. “And if you will help me, I’ll do what I can to bring that
gang to justice and assist you in getting your inheritance.”
“And in finding my mother, if she be alive,” added Bob. “Blake, give me
your hand. From now on we are firm friends.”
The two shook hands. More conversation followed, and then Bob started
up a fire, for the air about the hut was damp, and finding some coffee,
made a couple of hot cupfuls, both of which were relished.
The young photographer asked Blake how he had come to locate on the
islands, and was told that the old man at times grew utterly disgusted
with himself and the world, and had found on such occasion a haven of
rest there.
“Do you think you can stand it if I row you to the main land?” asked
Bob, when it was nearly noon.
“I reckon so, but you’ll have to put me to bed somewhere after that.”
“I’ll take good care of you, Blake.”
“You’ll find my boat over in a hollow back of these rocks.”
Bob procured the craft, and then, exerting all of his strength, carried
Blake to it and sat him down in the stern.
Quarter of an hour later they drew up to the spot where Bob had found
the other boat. Here a fat farmer was looking around in perplexity for
his craft.
“Say, does you vos see mine poats?” he asked.
“Yes, I borrowed it,” said Bob. “I will pay you for its use.”
“Oh, dot’s all right den. I vos dinkin’ it vos drifted avay, ain’t it?”
“It’s over to the other shore. But, tell me, do you live here?”
“Sure, right ofer dere,” and the German jerked his thumb over his
shoulder.
“This man has been hurt in the head. If you will take him in and send
for a doctor, I will be very thankful and settle all bills.”
“Sure, I took him in. Carl!”
At this call a boy, even fatter than his father, appeared.
“Run an’ tole your mudder a chentleman vos got hurt an’ to gits a ped
reaty kvick.”
“Yah, fadder.”
The boy went off, and Bob, assisted by the German farmer, lifted old
Blake out of the boat, and carried him up to the farm-house.
Here the old man was placed on a soft feather bed, and Carl was sent
off for the nearest doctor.
Bob left a twenty-dollar bill behind to pay all immediate charges, and
then bidding Blake keep a stout heart, he hired a horse and buggy from
the German farmer and set off for Dartinville.
It was a good hour’s drive, but Bob did not mind that, being busy
thinking over all Blake had told him.
“I must corner Barker and make him tell me the whole truth,” was his
one conclusion. “If mother is alive, I want to know it. I’m not going
to be a nobody any longer.”
Half-way to Dartinville Bob met Frank driving a bay horse at a furious
rate.
“I have telegraphed for the detectives,” said the young man. “They will
be on hand this evening.”
“Then what is your awful hurry?”
“I have a clew as to the whereabouts of Barker, Grogan, and that
fair-ground swindler. Come along, and I will tell you how I caught it.”
Bob eagerly assented, and the two turned off into a side road, leading
to a hilly district, rather hard to travel.
On the way Frank explained how he had got on the track. While
telegraphing at Dartinville a stranger had sent a message to Stampton.
He had written out the message twice, throwing the first sheet away.
“The stranger’s manner excited my curiosity,” Frank went on, “and I
picked up the slip. It read: ‘Meeting at the red house on Rayville
Road. B., G. and C. there. To-morrow sure.’ I knew it meant Barker,
Grogan, and Casco.”
“They have some big plan on hand,” returned Bob, “and we must stop
their evil work. Let us drive as fast as we can.”
On and on they went, Bob on the way relating to Frank what old Blake
had confessed.
“They are indeed a set of villains,” returned the young man. “And
it--hold up!”
He drew rein, and Bob followed suit. They had just passed a cross-road,
and looking down it they discovered a crowd coming toward them composed
of Barker, Grogan, Raymond, and Casco!