AN EVENING AT NIBLO'S.
"I wish I knew whether that money I saw Mr. Kirby counting belonged to
my poor uncle," thought Dean.
He didn't venture to take his boy friend into his confidence, for
his suspicions, strong as they were, might prove to do his employer
injustice. At any rate he resolved to keep on the lookout for additional
evidence which might tend either to confirm or to disprove them.
If he had been present in the broker's office, he would have heard
something to confirm the distrust he felt. When Peter Kirby was asked
by the broker's clerk, as usual, his name, he hesitated for a second,
then answered boldly "Renwick Bates." So in the broker's book the sale
of bonds was recorded as having been made to Renwick Bates. Had the
squire known this, he would have felt very angry with his confederate,
as, in case the fifty-dollar notes were traced, his name would be
involved.
Guy and Dean were taking supper at a restaurant not far from the hotel
when Mr. Kirby came in and sat down at a table near them. Guy was the
first to notice him.
"There's your respected employer, Dean," he said in a low voice.
"So he is. I wonder whether I ought to speak to him."
"Wait till you get through supper."
Presently another man came in and took a seat at the same table. He
seemed to have been expected.
"You're late, Pringle," said Kirby.
"Yes, I was detained. I went to Jersey City to see my wife."
"You are better provided than I. I have never found time to get
married."
"Well, it's awkward sometimes in our business to have such an
incumbrance."
"Does your wife know what business you are in?"
"Scarcely. She's a good church woman, and would be horrified. She
thinks I am a traveling salesman."
Kirby laughed.
"I have no wife to deceive," he said. "That is where I have the
advantage of you. However, you are no worse off than the captain. I've
been up to see him."
"Where?"
"In the country," answered Kirby evasively. "He's a big gun out there.
They call him squire."
Both laughed.
"So he is married?"
"Yes, and has a son who is his very image, even to the long, tusk-like
teeth. If ever he gets into trouble it's because they will give him
away."
"They certainly are very peculiar."
"They are dangerous," responded Kirby with emphasis. "If I had them I
would get rid of them in short order, but the captain owned to me that
he was afraid of the dentist."
"I suppose his family are in the dark as to his position?"
"Undoubtedly. His son is an impudent young cub. It would have given
me pleasure to box his ears. He evidently thinks his father a man of
great importance, and is inflated by his own estimate of his social
consequence."
"What makes the captain stay in such an obscure place?"
"He tells me it is on account of his family, and also because it adds
to his safety."
"When are we to see him?"
"He will be in Chicago next month, and lay out work for us to do. One
thing I will say for him, he has good executive talent, but he ought
not to keep out of the way so much of the time."
Then the talk drifted into other channels.
To this conversation Dean listened with the utmost attention. He felt
interested and excited. He could not fail to understand that Kirby was
referring to Squire Bates. The mystery was deepening. Who and what was
this man who in Oakford posed as a lawyer, a reputable citizen, and a
Justice of the Peace? It was clear that he was allied to some outside
organization in which he wished to conceal his membership.
This man Kirby who was now Dean's employer, was a friend and associate.
Why under the circumstances should Squire Bates have been willing to
send him off as Kirby's clerk or secretary? If there was anything to
conceal, it was only giving him an opportunity to find it out.
"I must keep my eyes open," thought Dean. "I mean to find out who
robbed my uncle, and whether Squire Bates had anything to do with it.
If I could only recover the money I should be happy."
"What are you thinking about so intently?" asked Guy.
"I want to get out of the restaurant without my employer seeing me,"
answered Dean in a low voice.
"Why? Would he object to your coming here!"
"Wait till we get into the street."
The boys managed to effect their retreat without attracting the notice
of Kirby or Pringle.
"Now what's it all about?" asked Guy.
"They were talking confidentially, and Mr. Kirby would be angry if he
thought I had heard them."
"Oh, that's it," said Guy carelessly. He was not a boy of much
curiosity, and felt much less interest in Dean's concerns than his own.
"Well, what shall we do this evening?"
"Go to bed, I suppose."
"But why not go to some theater?"
"I should like to go," said Dean, "but I don't know that I ought to
use the money Mr. Kirby gave me for such a purpose."
"You needn't mind that. Didn't you tell me you were to receive
twenty-five dollars a month?"
"Yes."
"Then if he makes any fuss, tell him to charge the expense of the
theatre to your salary."
"I might do that. How much will it cost to go to the theater?"
"We can get a fair seat for fifty cents."
"Then I think I'll go," said Dean after some hesitation.
"Have you any choice as to theatres?"
"No, I don't know anything about them. I never went to a theatre in my
life."
"Well, you are a fresh young countryman, and no mistake. Here, I'll get
an evening paper, and see what's playing at the different theaters."
The result was that Niblo's was selected. It is not necessary to
mention the name of the play, which was at that time a popular
favorite, but is now forgotten. The two boys obtained seats in the
balcony, rather far off from the stage, but both were possessed of good
eyes, and had no difficulty in seeing what was passing on the boards.
Dean was enchanted. He had had but vague ideas of what a theater was
like, and to him everything seemed real. There was one place where the
villain of the piece throws the heroine from a bridge into the water.
Dean uttered a little exclamation.
Guy turned to him with a smile.
"What's the matter?" he asked.
"I—I almost thought it was real," said Dean. "I was afraid she would
drown."
"And I dare say you wanted to punish the brutal ruffian?"
"Yes, I did," admitted Dean.
"Probably he and the girl are excellent friends in real life. Why, they
are husband and wife," he added, referring to the play bill.
"It doesn't seem possible."
"I envy you, Dean. You enjoy the play much better than I do, for you
believe in it while I know it for a sham—that is, I know it's merely
play-acting. Look in the next row—you see there is some one who
believes in it as much as you do."
Guy pointed to a lady in plain, old-fashioned attire who was wiping her
eyes.
"She takes it worse than you do," whispered Guy.
The play continued, and ended at last to the satisfaction of Dean, who
saw all the bad characters visited with retribution, while oppressed
innocence and virtue through much tribulation attained happiness and
peace.
When the play was over, they joined the throng and passed out through
the lobby. Suddenly a cry was heard from a little distance in front.
"I've been robbed! I've lost my pocket-book," and a small man with a
red and excited face began to feel wildly in his pockets for his lost
treasure.
At a little distance pushing their way out, were two tall men, whom
Dean recognized as Peter Kirby and his friend Pringle. While others in
the immediate neighborhood of the victim were regarding him with looks
of curiosity or sympathy these two seemed to feel no interest, and to
be only intent on getting out into the street.