SILAS TRIPP MAKES A DISCOVERY.
When Silas Tripp went into his store the next day he was startled to
find a window in the rear was partially open.
“How did that window come open, Abel?” he asked, as Abel Wood entered
the store.
“I don’t know, sir.”
“It must have been you that opened it,” said his employer, sternly.
“I didn’t do it, Mr. Tripp, honest I didn’t,” declared Abel, earnestly.
“Then how did it come open, that’s what I want to know?”
“I am sure I can’t tell.”
“Somebody might have come in during the night and robbed the store.”
“So there might.”
“It’s very mysterious. Such things didn’t happen when Chester was
here.”
Abel made no answer, but began to sweep out the store, his first
morning duty.
When Silas spoke of the store being robbed he had no idea that such a
robbing had taken place, but he went to the money drawer and opened it
to make sure all was safe.
Instantly there was a cry of dismay.
“Abel!” he exclaimed, “I’ve been robbed. There’s a lot of money
missing.”
Abel stopped sweeping and turned pale.
“Is that so, Mr. Tripp?” he asked, faintly.
“Yes, there’s—lemme see. There’s been burglars here. Oh, this is
terrible!”
“Who could have done it, Mr. Tripp?”
“I dunno, but the store was entered last night. I never shall feel safe
again,” groaned Silas.
“Didn’t they leave no traces?”
“Ha! here’s a handkerchief,” said Mr. Tripp, taking the article from
the top of a flour barrel, “and yes, by gracious, it’s marked Chester
Rand.”
“You don’t think he took the money?” ejaculated Abel, in open-eyed
wonder.
“Of course it must have been him! He knew just where I kept the money,
and he could find his way about in the dark, he knew the store so
well.”
“I didn’t think Chester would do such a thing.”
“That’s how he came by his five-dollar bill. He came in bold as brass
and paid me with my own money—the young rascal!”
“But how could he do it if the money was took last night? It was two or
three days ago he paid you the five-dollar bill.”
This was a poser, but Mr. Tripp was equal to the emergency.
“He must have robbed me before,” he said.
“You haven’t missed money before, have you?”
“Not to my knowledge, but he must have took it. Abel, I want you to go
right over to the Widow Rand’s and tell Chester I want to see him. I
dunno but I’d better send the constable after him.”
“Shall I carry him his handkerchief?”
“No, and don’t tell him it’s been found. I don’t want to put him on his
guard.”
Abel put his broom behind the door and betook himself to the house of
Mrs. Rand.
The widow herself opened the door.
“Is Chester at home?” asked Abel.
“Yes, he’s eating his breakfast. Do you want to see him?”
“Well, Mr. Tripp wants to see him.”
“Possibly he wants Chester to give him a little extra help,” she
thought.
“Won’t you come in and take a cup of coffee while Chester is finishing
his breakfast?” she said.
“Thank you, ma’am.”
Abel was a boy who was always ready to eat and drink, and he accepted
the invitation with alacrity.
“So Mr. Tripp wants to see me?” said Chester. “Do you know what it’s
about?”
“He’ll tell you,” answered Abel, evasively.
Chester was not specially interested or excited. He finished his
breakfast in a leisurely manner, and then taking his hat, went out with
Abel. It occurred to him that Mr. Tripp might be intending to discharge
Abel, and wished to see if he would return to his old place.
“So you don’t know what he wants to see me about?” he asked.
“Well, I have an idea,” answered Abel, in a mysterious tone.
“What is it, then?”
“Oh, I dassn’t tell.”
“Look here, Abel, I won’t stir a step till you do tell me. You are
acting very strangely.”
“Well, somethin’ terrible has happened,” Abel ejaculated, in excited
tones.
“What’s it?”
“The store was robbed last night.”
“The store was robbed?” repeated Chester. “What was taken?”
“Oh, lots and lots of money was taken from the drawer, and the window
in the back of the store was left open.”
“I’m sorry to hear it. I didn’t know there was anybody in Wyncombe that
would do such things. Does Mr. Tripp suspect anybody?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Who is it?”
“He thinks you done it.”
Chester stopped abruptly and looked amazed.
“Why, the man must be crazy! What on earth makes him think I would
stoop to do such a thing?”
“’Cause your handkerchief was found on a flour barrel ’side of the
money drawer.”
“My handkerchief! Who says it was my handkerchief?”
“Your name was on it—in one corner; I seed it myself.”
Then a light dawned upon Chester. The tramp whom he and his mother had
entertained the evening before, must have picked up his handkerchief,
and left it in the store to divert suspicion from himself. The
detective instinct was born within Chester, and now he felt impatient
to have the investigation proceed.
“Come on, Abel,” he said, “I want to see about this matter.”
“Well, you needn’t walk so plaguy fast, wouldn’t if I was you.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause you’ll probably have to go to jail. I’ll tell you what I’d do.”
“Well?”
“I’d hook it.”
“You mean run away?”
“Yes.”
“That’s the last thing I’d do. Mr. Tripp would have a right to think I
was guilty in that case.”
“Well, ain’t you?”
“Abel Wood, I have a great mind to give you a licking. Don’t you know
me any better than that?”
“Then why did you leave the handkerchief on the flour barrel?”
“That’ll come out in due time.”
They were near the store where Mr. Tripp was impatiently waiting for
their appearance. He did not anticipate Abel’s staying to breakfast,
and his suspicions were excited.
“I’ll bet Chester Rand has left town with the money,” he groaned. “Oh,
it’s awful to have your hard earnin’s carried off so sudden. I’ll send
Chester to jail unless he returns it—every cent of it.”
Here Abel entered the store, followed by Chester.