SEEKING FOR HARRY.
Squire Turner arrived in Vernon in time for a late supper. After
partaking of it, he took his hat and cane, and walked round to Mrs.
Raymond’s cottage. Seeing him from the window, she hastened to open the
door, and gazed with a look of anxious inquiry into his face.
“Did you see Harry?” she asked quickly, forgetting in her anxiety for her
son even to bid the squire good-evening.
“No, Mrs. Raymond; but I will come in and tell you all about it.”
His face was grave, and his voice was sympathetic. The poor woman, her
heart full of a terrible anxiety, haunted by undefined fears, led the way
into the plain sitting-room, and then said, in a voice of entreaty, “Tell
me quick, Squire Turner, has anything happened to my boy?”
“Let us hope not, Mrs. Raymond. I assure you I know of no harm that has
come to him, but—I could not find him.”
“You forgot the number?” she inquired, eagerly.
“No, I remembered the number. Besides, it was on your letter and bundle.
But I find that Mr. Fairchild has moved from his office on Nassau Street.”
“Has moved—where?”
“That I could not learn. It seems that the office was closed the day
after your son’s arrival in New York, that is, on Tuesday. I made inquiry
of the occupant of the next office, but that was all he could tell me,
except that he believed Mr. Fairchild had gone away without paying his
rent.”
Mrs. Raymond looked surprised.
“I don’t understand it,” she said. “Harry wrote that he was doing a large
business. I thought the firm was one of the largest in New York.”
“Let us hope that the information I received was incorrect,” said the
squire. “We will suppose that Mr. Fairchild found it necessary to move,
on account of the demands of an extensive business. The office on Nassau
Street was a small one, and I should hardly suppose it would be adequate
to his wants.”
“But Harry said nothing about moving. Besides, if they did move, I should
think he would have written me since.”
“There is something in what you say,” the squire answered. “In fact,
I confess the affair has puzzled me. It is possible, however, as I
suggested the other day, that he may have written, and the letter
miscarried.”
“Do you think anything has happened to Harry, Squire Turner?” asked Mrs.
Raymond.
“I hope not.”
“But you think it possible?”
“I don’t know what could have happened.”
“But it seems suspicious, Mr. Fairchild’s moving away so quickly.”
“Yes, that does look suspicions,” admitted the squire. “In fact, I
thought it best to lay the matter before the police authorities, so that
if there is anything wrong they may ferret it out.”
“Oh, I wish that Harry had never gone to the city!” murmured Mrs.
Raymond, sorrowfully. “I was not in favor of it from the first. I tried
to have him stay at home, but he was possessed to go to the city.”
“It is natural, Mrs. Raymond, that a spirited boy should get tired of a
small village like Vernon, and want to enter a larger field. It may turn
out all right. Don’t decide too hastily that anything has happened to
him.”
“I shall not sleep any to-night. Squire Turner, I think I must go to the
city to-morrow.”
“I would not advise you to do so, Mrs. Raymond. You could do no good
there. I have placed the matter in the hands of the police authorities,
and whatever there is to be found out they will ascertain and communicate
to me.”
“But it seems so hard to wait in suspense.”
“That is true. I will tell you what I will do. I know your anxiety, and
if nothing should be heard before next Tuesday, I will go to the city
again, and make what additional inquiries I can.”
“Thank you, Squire Turner. You are truly kind. How can I ever repay you
for your great kindness?”
“Don’t mention it, Mrs. Raymond. I know you have no one to look out
for you now, and it is a pleasure to me to feel that I am able to be of
service.”
The squire took his leave, pressing Mrs. Raymond’s hand gently, to
indicate the sympathy which he felt for her.
“I believe I played my part pretty well,” he said to himself, as he
went out. “She will never suspect that I had anything to do with the
abduction of her son. When the affair has blown over a little, I will go
to Milwaukie, and see Robinson about the land warrant, and its probable
value. If the affair can be compromised, so as to bring Mrs. Raymond ten
thousand dollars, I will offer myself. That will be a pretty addition to
my property. Besides, when her son gets home, and finds that I am his
mother’s husband, his mouth will be shut about that confounded fire.
Maybe, he will fall overboard, and never come back. If that happens, I
shan’t shed many tears. He is an obstinate, impracticable boy, and I
shall be rid of him.”
Thus the squire soliloquized.
Meanwhile, three days passed. It was Monday evening. Again he called to
see the widow, now, as it appeared, doubly bereft of husband and son.
“Have you had a letter, Mrs. Raymond?” he inquired.
“No,” she answered, sorrowfully. “I hoped you might have heard something.”
The squire shook his head.
“I wish I had any such news to give you,” he said; “but I have heard
nothing whatever.”
“I am sure Harry is dead,” said the poor mother, bursting into tears.
“No, no, I am sure he is not,” said the squire, soothingly. “There are
twenty ways of accounting for his silence, before adopting such an
extreme view as this.”
“I have hardly closed my eyes in sleep for the last three nights,” said
Mrs. Raymond; and her pale face and swollen eyes testified to the literal
correctness of what she said.
“Don’t worry too much,” said the squire. “We shall hear of Harry yet.
To-morrow I will go to the city again. If it will be any satisfaction to
you, I will invite you to accompany me.”
“I will go,” said the poor mother. “It will be better than staying at
home. I shall feel that I am doing something to find my lost Harry. You
are very kind to invite me.”
“Don’t mention it,” said the squire. “I will call round in the morning,
and carry you to the depot in my carriage.”
“I will be ready.”
The next day, therefore, Squire Turner, accompanied by Mrs. Raymond,
went to New York. They went round to the office in Nassau Street, but,
as may be expected, learned nothing in addition to the facts previously
gathered. Next, they went to the office of the Superintendent of Police,
but learned nothing definite beyond this, that Lemuel Fairchild, instead
of being a responsible business-man, was a needy adventurer. He had
disappeared from the city, and thus far the police had been unable
to trace him. What intention he could have had in pretending to be a
commission merchant, and, above all, what could have induced him to
send for Harry, was a mystery which it seemed difficult to explain.
The superintendent promised to pursue his inquiries, and to endeavor
to obtain information concerning Harry and his employer,—both of whom
had strangely disappeared. With this they were obliged to be content,
unsatisfactory as it was.
With a heavy heart Mrs. Raymond made her homeward journey. Thus far she
had thought only of the personal grief she had suffered in the loss of
Harry. But another consideration very soon forced itself upon her mind.
In losing Harry, she had lost her main support. How was she to sustain
herself and little Katy? Already the small amount of ready money which
her husband had left behind him was exhausted, and as yet she knew of no
way of earning more. It was Squire Turner who first opened the subject to
her.
“I have no doubt,” he said, “that Harry will return after a while, and
explain his absence in a satisfactory manner. But, meanwhile, you will,
of course, suffer inconvenience from the loss of his wages. Have you
thought of any plan?”
“No,” she answered, wearily. “I have no pleasure in living, now that my
husband and son are gone.”
“You must live for the sake of little Katy, and for the sake of Harry,
who will return some day.”
“Yes, Katy will need me; Harry I shall never see again.”
“You think so now; but I am sure he will return. I have taken the liberty
to form a plan for you, supposing that you were too much occupied by your
grief to form any for yourself.”
“You are very kind, Squire Turner.”
“I will advance you a hundred dollars, which can be added to the mortgage
I hold on your place. With a part of it you can buy a sewing-machine, and
take in work. I am needing a dozen shirts made, if you will undertake
them.”
Mrs. Raymond felt that this was a kind and wise plan, and so expressed
herself. Accordingly, the sewing-machine was bought, and it was
understood that Mrs. Raymond was ready to take in sewing. She obtained
considerable employment, but not enough to pay all her expenses. Every
month she found herself going behindhand, and getting more and more into
debt to Squire Turner.
But we must leave her now, and follow the fortunes of our young hero.