LEO MAGGIMORE.
Andre Maggimore had an apoplectic fit. Perhaps the immense dinner he
had eaten in the shop had some connection with his malady; but the
shock he received when the banker told him that Leo was implicated in
the robbery of the safe was the immediate exciting cause. Andre was a
great eater, and took but little exercise in the open air, and was
probably predisposed to the disease. The dark shadow of trouble which
the banker's words foreboded disturbed the circulation, and hastened
what might otherwise have been longer retarded.
Doubtless Mr. Checkynshaw thought it was very inconsiderate in Andre
Maggimore to have an attack of apoplexy in his house, in the presence
of his nervous daughter, and especially when he was in such a hurry to
ascertain what had become of his valuable private papers. If the banker
was excited before, he was desperate now. He rang the bells furiously,
and used some strong expressions because the servants did not appear as
soon as they were summoned.
Lawrence had gone for the carriage, and one of the female servants was
sent for the doctor. Mr. Checkynshaw handed his daughter over to her
mother, who also thought it was very stupid for the barber to have a
fit before such a nervous miss as Elinora. The banker returned to the
room in which Andre lay. He turned him over, and wished he was anywhere
but in his house, which was no place for a sick barber. But the doctor
immediately came to his relief. He examined the patient; Andre might
live, and might die--a valuable opinion; but the wisest man could have
said no more.
Mr. Checkynshaw could not afford to be bothered by the affair any
longer. He had pressing business on his hands. He directed the doctor
to do all that was necessary, and to have his patient removed to his
own residence as soon as practicable. After assuring himself that
Elinora had neither been burned to death nor frightened to death, he
stepped into the carriage, and ordered the driver to take him to No. 3
Phillimore Court.
The banker was very much annoyed by the awkwardness of the
circumstances. He judged from what Andre had said, that he was much
attached to his foster-son, and he concluded that Leo was equally
interested in his foster-father. It was not pleasant to tell the boy
that the barber had fallen in a fit, and might die from the effects of
it; and if he did, Leo might not be able to give him the information he
needed. It would confuse his mind, and overwhelm him with grief. Mr.
Checkynshaw could not see why poor people should grieve at the sickness
or death of their friends, though it was a fact they did so, just like
rich people of sensibility and cultivation.
He thought of this matter as the driver, in obedience to his mandate,
hurried him to Phillimore Court. If he told Leo, there would be an
awkward scene, and he would be expected to comfort the poor boy,
instead of worming out of him the dry facts of the robbery. If he had
ever heard of Maggie, he had forgotten all about her. Had he thought of
her, the circumstances would have appeared still more awkward. He had
already decided not to inform Leo of the sudden illness of his father.
When he reached the humble abode of the barber, and his summons at the
door was answered by the fair Maggie, he was the more determined not to
speak of the calamity which had befallen them.
Leo was at home; but it would be disagreeable to examine him in his own
house, and in the presence of Maggie. He changed his tactics at once,
and desired the boy to ride up to his office with him. Leo wondered
what Mr. Checkynshaw could want of him at that time of day. It was
strange that a person of his consequence had thought of him at all; and
even "Mr. Hart" had proved to be a false prophet. He concluded that the
banker had discharged Fitz, and needed a boy at once; but the gentleman
was too imperative to be denied, and Leo did not venture to object to
anything he proposed. He followed the great man into the carriage, and
regarded it as a piece of condescension on his part to permit a poor
boy like him to ride in the same vehicle with him.
Mr. Checkynshaw did not speak till the carriage stopped before the
banking-house in State Street; and Leo was too much abashed by the
lofty presence of the great man to ask any question, or to open the
subject which he supposed was to be discussed in the private office. He
followed the banker into that apartment, thinking only of the manner in
which he should decline to enter the service of his intended employer
before the completion of his school year.
"Burnet," said Mr. Checkynshaw, opening the window of the banking-room.
The old cashier entered, and bowed deferentially to the head of the
house.
"Send for Mr. Clapp," added the banker; and Burnet bowed and retired,
like an approved courtier.
Leo was not at all familiar with the police records, and had not
learned that Mr. Clapp was the well-known constable,--the "Old Reed" or
the "Old Hayes" of his day and generation,--and the name had no terrors
to him.
"Boy, what is your name?" demanded Mr. Checkynshaw, when the door had
closed behind the cashier.
"Leopold Maggimore, sir," replied he.
"Leopold," repeated the banker.
"I am generally called Leo, sir."
"Did the barber--your father, if he is your father--send you to my
office to-day?"
"Yes, sir; he sent me, and I came; but you were not in."
"Why didn't you wait for me?"
"I was told you would not be back again to-day, sir."
"What time were you here?"
"At half past two, sir. There was some trouble in the entry at the
time. A gentleman had a young fellow by the collar, and was putting him
out of the building."
"Just so. Who was the gentleman?"
"I don't know, sir; I didn't see his face."
"I was that gentleman."
"I didn't know it, sir. It was just half past two, and I wanted to be
on time."
"Who told you I should not be back again?" demanded the banker more
sternly than he had before spoken.
"Mr. Hart," replied Leo, who regarded his informant as excellent
authority.
"Mr. Hart!" exclaimed Mr. Checkynshaw, staring into the bright eyes of
Leo to detect any appearance of deception.
The banker prided himself upon his shrewdness. He believed that, if
there was any person in the world who was peculiarly qualified to
expose the roguery of a suspected individual, he was that person. In
conducting the present examination he only wanted Derastus Clapp for
the terror of his name, rather than his professional skill as a
detective.
Mr. Checkynshaw believed that he had intrapped his victim. Mr. Hart
could not have told Leo that the head of the house would not return to
the office that day, for the very simple reason that Mr. Hart was dead
and gone. The old style of the firm was retained, but the Hart was gone
out of it. The boy was telling a wrong story, and the banker laid his
toils for unveiling the details of a gigantic conspiracy. Fitz lived
somewhere in the vicinity of High Street,--Mr. Checkynshaw did not know
where, for it would not be dignified for a great man like him to know
where his clerk resided,--and it was more than possible that Leo and he
were acquainted. Very likely the innocent-looking youth before him was
an accomplice of Fitz, who, since the disappearance of the papers, had
really become a terrible character.
"Yes, sir; Mr. Hart told me," repeated Leo, who could not see anything
so very strange in the circumstance.
"Mr. Hart told you!" said the banker, again, endeavoring to overwhelm
the boy by the intensity of his gaze.
"Yes, sir, Mr. Hart."
"Was Mr. Hart in this office?"
"Yes, sir."
"What was Mr. Hart doing?"
"He wasn't doing anything. I was standing here waiting for you when he
came in."
"Which way did he come in?" interrupted the banker.
"The same way we did just now," added Leo, pointing to the door which
opened into the long entry.
"Very well; go on."
"He told me to go into the big room," continued Leo, pointing to the
banking-room. "I went in there, and asked the man that just came in
here for you."
"You asked Burnet for me?"
"I didn't know what his name was; but it was the man you just called in
here."
"Burnet; go on."
"He told me to come in here and wait for you."
"Burnet told you so?"
"Yes, sir; and when I came back, Mr. Hart was taking some papers and
things from that safe, and putting them in the pocket of his overcoat.
Then he locked the safe, and put the key in his pocket."
"Go on," said Mr. Checkynshaw, excited by these details.
"Then Mr. Hart told me Mr. Checkynshaw would not be in again to-day,
and I must come again to-morrow."
"What then?"
"I went out through the big room, and he came right after me."
Leo, without knowing why he was required to do so, described in full
all that had taken place after he left the banking-room till "Mr. Hart"
had changed his clothes, and left the house of Andre.
"How did you know this person was Mr. Hart?" asked the banker.
"He told me so, sir. I asked him before we got to my house if he was
Mr. Hart, and he said he was. When he told me Mr. Checkynshaw was not
in, and I saw him take the things out of the safe, and put the key in
his pocket, I knew he belonged here, and being in this office, I
guessed it was Mr. Hart. He promised to get me a good place when I
leave school, and to explain the matter to you, and make it all right,
when he came back from New York."
"Perhaps he will do so," added Mr. Checkynshaw, with a sneer.
But the banker was completely "nonplussed." He found it difficult to
believe that this boy had anything to do with the robbery of his safe.
At this point in the investigation, Mr. Clapp arrived. It was now quite
dark. Most of the clerks in the banking-room had left; but Burnet was
called, and instructed to remain with Leo, while the banker and the
detective held a conference in the next room. Leo could not tell what
it was all about. Not a word had been said about a boy to fill Fitz's
place. He asked Burnet what Mr. Checkynshaw wanted of him; but the
cashier was dumb.
After the banker had told the officer all about the affair, they went
into the private office, and Leo was subjected to a long and severe
questioning. Then he learned that "Mr. Hart" was not Mr. Hart, and that
the safe had been plundered. He was filled with astonishment, not to
say horror; but every answer he gave was straightforward, and at the
end of it the skilled detective declared that he had had nothing to do
with the robbery.
"Do you know Fitz Wittleworth?" demanded Mr. Checkynshaw, sharply.
"Yes, sir."
"Did he ever say anything to you about me?"
"I have heard him call you Old Checkynshaw; but he never said anything
that I can remember, except that you couldn't get along in your
business without him."
"Did he ever say anything about any papers of mine?" asked the banker,
scowling fiercely.
"No, sir."
The banker plied Leo with questions in this direction; but he failed to
elicit anything which confirmed his fears. A carriage was called, and
Mr. Checkynshaw and the constable, taking Leo with them, were driven to
the house of the barber.