A DISAGREEABLE SURPRISE.
Philip Stark sat down to breakfast in a savage frame of mind. He wanted
to be revenged upon Gibbon, whom he suspected of having deceived him by
opening and appropriating the bonds, and then arranged to have him carry
off the box filled with waste paper.
He sat at the table but five minutes, for he had little or no appetite.
From the breakfast room he went out on the piazza, and with corrugated
brows smoked a cigar, but it failed to have the usual soothing effect.
If he had known the truth he would have left Milford without delay, but
he was far from suspecting that the deception practiced upon him had
been arranged by the man whom he wanted to rob. While there seemed
little inducement for him to stay in Milford, he was determined to seek
the bookkeeper, and ascertain whether, as he suspected, his confederate
had in his possession the bonds which he had been scheming for. If so,
he would compel him by threats to disgorge the larger portion, and then
leave town at once.
But the problem was, how to see him. He felt that it would be
venturesome to go round to the factory, as by this time the loss might
have been discovered. If only the box had been left, the discovery might
be deferred. Then a bright idea occurred to him. He must get the box out
of his own possession, as its discovery would compromise him. Why could
he not arrange to leave it somewhere on the premises of his confederate?
He resolved upon the instant to carry out the idea. He went up to his
room, wrapped the tin box in a paper, and walked round to the house of
the bookkeeper. The coast seemed to be clear, as he supposed it would
be. He slipped into the yard, and swiftly entered an outhouse. There was
a large wooden chest, or box, which had once been used to store grain.
Stark lifted the cover, dropped the box inside, and then, with a feeling
of relief, walked out of the yard. But he had been observed. Mrs. Gibbon
chanced to be looking out of a side window and saw him. She recognized
him as the stranger who had been in the habit of spending recent
evenings with her husband.
“What can he want here at this time?” she asked herself.
She deliberated whether she should go to the door and speak to Stark,
but decided not to do so.
“He will call at the door if he has anything to say,” she reflected.
Phil Stark walked on till he reached the factory. He felt that he
must see Julius Gibbon, and satisfy himself as to the meaning of the
mysterious substitution of waste paper for bonds.
When he reached a point where he could see into the office, he caught
the eye of Leonard, who was sitting at the window. He beckoned for him
to come out, and Leonard was glad to do so.
“Where are you going?” asked the bookkeeper, observing the boy’s
movement.
“Mr. Stark is just across the street, and he beckoned for me.”
Julius Gibbon flushed painfully, and he trembled with nervous agitation,
for he feared something had happened.
“Very well, go out, but don’t stay long.”
Leonard crossed the street and walked up to Stark, who awaited him,
looking grim and stern.
“Your uncle is inside?” he asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Tell him I wish to see him at once--on business of importance.”
“He’s busy,” said Leonard. “‘He doesn’t leave the office in business
hours.”
“Tell him I must see him--do you hear? He’ll come fast enough.”
“I wonder what it’s all about,” thought Leonard, whose curiosity was
naturally excited.
“Wait a minute!” said Stark, as he turned to go. “Is Jennings in?”
“No, sir, he has gone over to the next town.”
“Probably the box has not been missed, then,” thought Stark. “So much
the better! I can find out how matters stand, and then leave town.”
“Very well!” he said, aloud, “let your uncle understand that I must see
him.”
Leonard carried in the message. Gibbon made no objection, but took his
hat and went out, leaving Leonard in charge of the office.
“Well, what is it?” he asked, hurriedly, as he reached Stark. “Is--is
the box all right?”
“Look here, Gibbon,” said Stark, harshly, “have you been playing any of
your infernal tricks upon me?”
“I don’t know what you mean,” responded Gibbon, bewildered.
Stark eyed him sharply, but the bookkeeper was evidently sincere.
“Is there anything wrong?” continued the latter.
“Do you mean to tell me you didn’t know that wretched box was filled
with waste paper?”
“You don’t mean it?” exclaimed Gibbon, in dismay.
“Yes, I do. I didn’t open it till this morning, and in place of
government bonds, I found only folded slips of newspaper.”
By this time Gibbon was suspicious. Having no confidence in Stark, it
occurred to him that it was a ruse to deprive him of his share of the
bonds.
“I don’t believe you,” he said. “You want to keep all the bonds for
yourself, and cheat me out of my share.”
“I wish to Heaven you were right. If there had been any bonds, I would
have acted on the square. But somebody had removed them, and substituted
paper. I suspected you.”
“I am ready to swear that this has happened without my knowledge,” said
Gibbon, earnestly.
“How, then, could it have occurred?” asked Stark.
“I don’t know, upon my honor. Where is the box?”
“I--have disposed of it.”
“You should have waited and opened it before me.”
“I asked you if you had a key that would open it. I wanted to open it
last evening in the office.”
“True.”
“You will see after a while that I was acting on the square. You can
open it for yourself at your leisure.”
“How can I? I don’t know where it is.”
“Then I can enlighten you,” said Stark, maliciously. “When you go home,
you will find it in a chest in your woodshed.”
Gibbon turned pale.
“You don’t mean to say you have carried it to my house?” he exclaimed,
in dismay.
“Yes, I do. I had no further use for it, and thought you had the best
claim to it.”
“But, good heavens! if it is found there I shall be suspected.”
“Very probably,” answered Stark, coolly. “Take my advice and put it out
of the way.”
“How could you be so inconsiderate?”
“Because I suspected you of playing me a trick.”
“I swear to you, I didn’t.”
“Then somebody has tricked both of us. Has Mr. Jennings discovered the
disappearance of the box?”
“Yes, I told him.”
“When?”
“When he came to the office.”
“What did he say?”
“He took the matter coolly. He didn’t say much.”
“Where is he?”
“Gone to Winchester on business.”
“Look here! Do you think he suspects you?”
“I am quite sure not. That is why I told him about the robbery.”
“He might suspect me.”
“He said nothing about suspecting anybody.”
“Do you think he removed the bonds and substituted paper?”
“I don’t think so.”
“If this were the case we should both be in a serious plight. I think I
had better get out of town. You will have to lend me ten dollars.”
“I don’t see how I can, Stark.”
“You must!” said Stark, sternly, “or I will reveal the whole thing.
Remember, the box is on your premises.”
“Heavens! what a quandary I am in,” said the bookkeeper, miserably.
“That must be attended to at once. Why couldn’t you put it anywhere
else?”
“I told you that I wanted to be revenged upon you.”
“I wish you had never come to Milford,” groaned the bookkeeper.
“I wish I hadn’t myself, as things have turned out.”
They prepared to start for Gibbon’s house, when Mr. Jennings drove
up. With him were two tall muscular men, whom Stark and Gibbon eyed
uneasily. The two strangers jumped out of the carriage and advanced
toward the two confederates.
“Arrest those men!” said Jennings, in a quiet tone. “I charge them with
opening and robbing my safe last night about eleven o’clock.”