A LETTER FROM JAKE AMSDEN.
ON receipt of the despatch reproduced at the close of the last chapter
Mr. Wentworth started immediately for Ilium, and had an interview with
Dr. McIntire.
“When did my son leave Ilium?” he asked.
“Two days ago, probably. He was not at recitations, but I received a
note saying he was sick with the influenza. This seemed natural, for
I have myself been suffering from the same malady, and therefore my
suspicions were not excited. When the next morning Victor also absented
himself I sent around to his boarding-house, and learned that he and a
school friend of his—Arthur Grigson—had not been seen for twenty-four
hours. Their trunks were left, but each had taken a valise, filled with
clothing, as may be presumed, for the bureau drawers were empty. It is
clear that the flight was premeditated. Can you furnish me with any
clew, Mr. Wentworth, to the probable cause of this escapade?”
“Only this, that Victor in his last letter asked permission to go off
on a trip with this boy, Arthur Grigson. He wished to leave school and
travel for a year.”
“That explains it. You refused, I presume?”
“Yes, emphatically.”
“Your son then has gone without leave.”
“It would seem so. What is the character of this Arthur Grigson?”
“He is from Syracuse, in New York State. I believe he has no immediate
family, but is under the charge of a guardian, who lets him do pretty
much as he pleases. Had your son any money, do you think?”
“I had just sent him fifty dollars to settle his board bill for the
month, with a margin for his own personal use.”
“Probably he used the money to travel with. It may be well to inquire
at his boarding-house if he has paid his board.”
This Mr. Wentworth did, and ascertained that the bill was still unpaid.
He returned to the principal with this information.
“What would you advise me to do?” he inquired in some perplexity.
“I will advise you, but you may not be willing to adopt my advice.”
“At any rate I shall be glad to have your views, for I am in great
doubt.”
“I would make no effort to recover the fugitive.”
“What!” exclaimed Bradley Wentworth startled, “would you have me
abandon my only son to his own devices?”
“Only for a time. You might, of course, secure the services of a
detective to pursue him, but that would be expensive and probably would
do no good.”
“But I don’t like to return home without an effort to recover Victor.”
“Listen to me, Mr. Wentworth. How old is your son?”
“Seventeen.”
“Then he ought to be able to look out for himself in a measure. I
predict that it won’t be long before you hear from him.”
“What leads you to think so?”
“Victor left school with only fifty dollars in his pocket. That sum
won’t last long. His companion no doubt had more, for his guardian
foolishly supplied him with money very liberally. But, at any rate,
it won’t be long before the two boys will be at the end of their
resources. Then the natural thing will be for each to write for money
to get home. When you receive your son’s letter you will, of course,
learn where he is, and can seek him out and take him home.”
“Your advice is most judicious, Dr. McIntire,” said Mr. Wentworth
brightening up. “I shall adopt it. I shan’t be sorry if the young
scapegrace gets into trouble and suffers for his folly.”
“I hope, Mr. Wentworth, you don’t blame me in the matter.”
“No, Dr. McIntire, I blame no one but the boy himself. Your suggestions
have entirely changed my intentions. I did propose to advertise a
reward to any one who would send me information of the missing boy, but
now I shall do nothing of the kind. I will trust to time and the want
of money to restore Victor to his senses.”
Mr. Wentworth settled all Victor’s debts in Ilium, and when his task
was finished returned to Seneca.
“The boy needn’t think I am going to make a fuss about him. It would be
making him of altogether too much importance. I think I can afford to
wait quite as well as he can.”
“Did you see Mr. Victor?” inquired the housekeeper when he returned
home.
“No, Mrs. Bancroft.”
“I thought you went to Ilium, sir.”
“So I did.”
“And did not call on Mr. Victor?”
“Victor isn’t at Ilium. He has gone away on a little journey with a
school companion.”
Mrs. Bancroft looked surprised.
“Will he be gone long?” she ventured to inquire.
“It is not decided,” answered Wentworth. From his manner the
housekeeper understood that he did not care to be interrogated further.
She would like to have asked where Victor had gone, for she felt some
affection for the boy whom she had known since he wore knickerbockers,
but she reflected that when letters were received the postmark would
reveal what she desired to know. Accordingly she waited eagerly, but so
far as she could learn no letters came from the absent boy. She grew
anxious, but Bradley Wentworth seemed calm and imperturbable.
“Master Victor must be all right,” she concluded, “or his father would
look anxious.”
One morning Mrs. Bancroft found in the mail a letter dated Gulchville,
Colorado, but the address was evidently written by an uneducated
person not much in the habit of holding the pen. It couldn’t be from
Victor, whose handwriting was very good, but Mrs. Bancroft reflected in
alarm that he might be sick and unable to write for himself, and had
employed an illiterate amanuensis.
She looked closely at Mr. Wentworth when he read the letter at the
breakfast table. He seemed surprised, but that was the only emotion
which the housekeeper could detect.
He laid the letter down without a word, having read it apparently with
some difficulty.
“I beg your pardon, Mr. Wentworth,” said Mrs. Bancroft, “but does the
letter give any news of Master Victor?”
“No; what should make you think it did, Mrs. Bancroft?”
“I noticed that it was postmarked in Colorado.”
“True, but I don’t expect Victor to go so far, I have acquaintances in
Colorado.”
That was the only information vouchsafed to Mrs. Bancroft.
“I’m a poor woman,” she said to herself, “but I’d freely give ten
dollars to know just where Master Victor is. I’m afraid he’s a little
wild, and don’t like study, but I haven’t forgotten what a nice
little boy he was, and how he used to kiss the old housekeeper. He’s
got a good heart, has Victor. It’s very mysterious his going away so
sudden-like. Mr. Wentworth evidently doesn’t want me to know where he
is. Maybe he’s sent him to one of them strict military schools, where
he’ll be ruled with a rod of iron. I only wish I could see him for just
five minutes.”
The mysterious letter (not to keep the reader in doubt) was written
by our old acquaintance Jake Amsden, and we will reproduce it here,
correcting the orthography, which deviated considerably from the
standards set by the best writers.
“MR. WENTWORTH,
DEAR SIR:—I think you will be interested to know that the boy, Gerald
Lane, has gone away from Gulchville. I don’t know where he has gone,
but he went with an Englishman named Brooke or Brooks. I think the
Englishman is going to travel round Colorado, and has taken Gerald as
a guide. He would have done a good deal better to take me, for Gerald
is only a kid, and doesn’t know much about the State, while I have
traveled all over it. Oh, I almost forgot to say that he has let his
cabin to a Mr. Carter, whom I used to know a good many years ago.
That shows he means to come back again. When he does come back I will
let you know.
“I hope you will consider this letter worth five dollars for I am very
short of money and times are so hard that I can’t get anything to do.
“Yours to command,
“JAKE AMSDEN, ESQ.”
Why Mr. Amsden signed himself Esq. is not altogether clear. As he had
expressed a hope to go to Congress some day he perhaps wanted to keep
up his dignity.
Mr. Wentworth returned the following answer to this letter:
“JAKE AMSDEN,
“I am glad to receive information about Gerald Lane. I enclose five
dollars. When you hear anything more about him, particularly when he
returns, write me again.
“BRADLEY WENTWORTH.”
He did not, however, address this to Jake Amsden, Esq., rather to the
disappointment of his gifted correspondent. But Jake found substantial
consolation in the five dollars enclosed, which soon found its way into
the coffers of Pete Johnson.