DEAN BECOMES HIS OWN MASTER.
Two days later Dean and his employer reached a small town in Iowa which
we will call Clifton. They passed the night at the American Hotel, and
occupied a room with two beds. Kirby rose first in the morning, and
went out, leaving Dean asleep.
When the boy awoke he rose and dressed himself. He was putting on
his coat when he noticed an open letter addressed to Kirby which had
fallen on the floor. Dean picked it up, and was about to put it away to
return to Kirby, when his eye caught the postmark "Waterford" and the
signature Renwick Bates.
Though under ordinary circumstances Dean would not have felt
justified in reading a letter not addressed to himself, the peculiar
circumstances, and the suspicion he entertained relative to the share
these two men probably had in the robbery of his uncle, decided him
to take advantage of the opportunity which presented itself to him of
acquiring some information on the subject.
This was the letter which Dean read with an interest that may be
imagined:
FRIEND KIRBY:
I have not received the government bonds which you purchased with
the bills I gave you to dispose of. How did you send them? I cannot
understand how such a package could have miscarried if properly
addressed and forwarded with suitable precautions. I shall hold you
responsible for them, and say emphatically that I regard the failure to
reach me as something strange and mysterious. I do not like to express
distrust, but I require you to send me the receipt of the express
company to whom you committed the package.
In regard to the boy Dean you understand my wishes. I don't wish him to
return to Waterford. It will be easy to get him into trouble at such a
distance from home that he will find it hard to get back. You can write
me a letter which I can show at my discretion to his friends, which
will discredit any stories he may invent about you or myself.
RENWICK BATES.
Dean read this letter with eager interest. He felt that it would be a
formidable proof against Squire Bates, and he carefully concealed it in
his inside vest pocket.
"So Mr. Kirby means to get me into trouble," he soliloquized. "I shall
have to be on my guard."
Dean went below and took breakfast, not being in the habit of waiting
for his employer. Mr. Kirby entered the breakfast-room as he was
leaving it.
"We take the ten o'clock train," he said briefly. "Don't leave the
hotel."
"All right, sir, I'll stay in the office."
At ten o'clock they stepped on board a Western bound train. Dean feared
that Kirby would miss his letter, and make inquiries about it, but its
loss appeared not to have been discovered. They took seats, and the
train started. Dean caught Kirby regarding him with a peculiar gaze,
and it made him uneasy. Was he devising some plot, of which Dean was to
be the victim?
Two hours later the train had traversed fifty miles. The train boy came
through the car, carrying a supply of the latest novels. Kirby was not
in general much of a reader, but on this occasion he stopped the boy
and looked over his books.
"I think I will take this book," he said, selecting a Pinkerton
detective story.
"I sell a good many of that series," said the boy glibly.
Kirby put his hand into his pocket, and withdrew it with a startled
expression.
"I can't find my pocket-book," he said.
Several of the passengers looked round, and apprehensively felt for
their own wallets.
"When did you have it last, sir?" asked an old gentleman in the next
seat.
"At the Clifton railroad station, sir. I bought tickets there."
"Are you sure you put back the wallet into your pocket?"
"Yes, I am positive."
"There must be a pickpocket on the train then."
"But I haven't exposed myself," said Kirby puzzled. "I took my seat
here, with my boy, and have not stirred since."
"Your son, I suppose?"
"No; he is a boy in my employ."
"Humph!" said the old man, eying Dean dubiously.
"You don't mean that you suspect him of taking it?" said Kirby in a low
tone.
Dean heard these words, and he exclaimed indignantly. "I am not a
thief, if that is what the gentleman means."
"Of course not," said Kirby soothingly—"Still, just to convince him
now, you may as well search your pockets."
Dean thrust his hand into his right pocket (he wore a sack coat) and
it came in contact with something unexpected. He drew it out, with the
lost pocket-book in it.
"Is it possible?" ejaculated Kirby.
"Just what I thought!" said the old man, nodding emphatically.
"I wouldn't have believed it," said Kirby.
"Mr. Kirby," said Dean, his face flaming with indignation, "do you mean
to charge me with taking that pocket-book?"
"What else can I think? Oh, Dean, I am grieved to find you dishonest."
"I know nothing of how it came into my pocket," said Dean hotly, "but I
suspect."
"What do you suspect?"
"That you put it there to get me into trouble."
"You hear him!" said Kirby, turning to the old man.
"What shameless effrontery!" exclaimed the old gentleman. "I don't know
what the world is coming to. Have you ever missed anything before, sir?"
"Two or three articles of jewelry," answered Kirby, "but it never
occurred to me to suspect the boy."
"It seems pretty clear now."
"Yes, I should say so."
Meanwhile Dean, with flushed and angry countenance, looked from one
face to another, but everywhere he met looks of distrust. It was clear
that the majority of the passengers believed him guilty. He understood
now the nature of the plot against him, and the letter in his pocket
would be a sufficient proof of it. But he did not wish to produce
it. He chose rather to keep it on account of the evidence which it
contained against Squire Bates.
"What shall you do about it?" asked the old gentleman, who seemed to
feel particularly hostile against Dean.
"I don't know," answered Kirby hesitating.
"The boy ought to be punished. If it were _my_ case, I would have him
arrested."
"No, I don't care to do that. He belongs to a respectable family."
"Surely you won't keep him in your employ?"
"No, I shall feel compelled to discharge him. Dean, you can leave the
car at the next station. You are no longer in my employ. For the sake
of your uncle and aunt, I shall not have you arrested, but I must
decline to employ you any longer."
"Very well, sir!" answered Dean. "If you will pay me what you owe me
for services, I will leave you."
"Pay you what I owe you!" replied Kirby, as if surprised.
"Yes, sir; you promised me twenty-five dollars per month, and I have
been with you three weeks."
"You have received money from me at different times, and I owe you
nothing. Besides, the jewelry which you have taken will amount to more
than your wages."
"Mr. Kirby, I have taken no jewelry, and you know it."
"How can you tolerate the boy's impudence?" said the old man.
Kirby shrugged his shoulders.
"I have been very much deceived in him," he answered, "but I cherish
no revengeful feelings. I hope he may see the error of his ways, and
resolve to lead an honest life."
"You are too merciful, sir."
"It may be so, but he is young, and there is hope of his repentance."
"Mr. Kirby, do I understand that you wish me to leave you?" asked Dean.
"Yes. You had better get out at the next station. Here is a dollar. I
don't want to leave you altogether penniless. Of course I must report
what has happened to Squire Bates, who stood sponsor to you."
The train began to slow up, for the next station was near at hand.
"I don't want the dollar," said Dean. "I understand your object in
accusing me of theft. I could clear myself now if I chose, but I am
willing to wait."
Dean rose from his seat, and with flushed cheeks and head erect walked
to the end of the car, and stepped out on the platform. He stood there,
and watched the departure of the train, bearing his late employer
farther West. He did not even know the name of the station at which he
had disembarked.