The Dead Alive
Mr. Brief was considerably surprised when Ben entered his office.
"I thought you had gone back to Boston," he said.
"I have been back to Boston, Mr. Brief, and returned to Montreal
on business."
"Didn't you finish up your business here?"
"I thought so, sir; but I was mistaken."
"I am afraid you are not a very good manager. It looks to me like
waste of time. What can I do for you?"
"A gentleman came with me, who thinks he would like to have you
attend to a little business for him."
"Certainly," responded the lawyer bruskly. "I shall be happy to wait
on him. Where is he staying?"
"At the Windsor."
"And you recommended me? I am much obliged to you. What is
the gentleman's name?"
"Marcus Benton."
"Can't say I ever heard of him Is he from Boston?"
"He comes from Boston," answered Ben evasively.
In the hope of securing a profitable client, Mr. Brief lost no time in
seeking the hotel.
"Remain here a moment," said Ben, as they entered the office, "and
I will let Mr. Benton know you are here."
"Certainly," said the lawyer complacently.
In five minutes Ben reappeared.
"Follow me, if you please, Mr. Brief," he said. "By the way, Mr.
Benton says he knows you."
"Mr. Benton knows me! It is strange I can't recall him," said Mr.
Brief, trying to recollect.
"I think you will remember when you see him."
"Possibly; but I have no recollection on any gentleman of that name."
Ben and his uncle--to give him a name not strictly warranted by
facts--occupied two rooms adjoining.
Ben ushered the lawyer into his own room, saying, "Mr. Brief,
you must prepare for a surprise."
When, however, the so-called Marcus Benton entered the room,
Mr. Brief sprang to his feet in great amazement.
"Can I believe my eyes?" he ejaculated.
"I think you can, Mr. Brief," said the old gentleman quietly,
"You are Matthew Baldwin."
"Precisely."
"And you are not dead?"
"Do I look as if I were?" asked Mr. Baldwin, smiling.
"What does it all mean?" asked Mr. Brief, bewildered.
"It means that I wished to try John Tremlett. I wished to ascertain
whether he were worthy to inherit my fortune. What is your
opinion?"
"My opinion," said the lawyer, "is that he would run through the
property in five years. I am disgusted with him."
"How does he spend his money?" inquired Mr. Baldwin.
"In every kind of extravagance and every form of dissipation. At
the rate he is going on, it is a question, in my mind, whether he or
the property would last longer."
"I got that idea from my young friend here, who, by the way, knew
of me only as Marcus Benton when he came first to see you."
"Of course you will resume possession of the property, Mr.
Baldwin?"
"Such is my intention."
"I can give it back into your hands entire, with the exception of
nine hundred dollars drawn by Tremlett, and your funeral
expenses."
"My funeral expense!" exclaimed Mr. Baldwin, in surprise.
"Yes; a body was found in the St. Lawrence, which was supposed
to be yours. It was buried with proper ceremony."
The old man smiled, but there was a certain sadness in the smile.
"It is, perhaps, only anticipating things a little," he said. "The
expenses shall be allowed."
"Of course you wish Mr. Tremlett to be informed without delay."
"Yes."
"He is to come to my office in an hour."
"Can you let me witness the interview?"
"Yes, sir. You can conceal yourself in the inner room, and I will
see him in the outer office, with the door ajar."
An hour later John Tremlett swaggered into Mr. Brief's office.
"Brief," said he, "I must have some money."
"Have you used up the hundred dollars I gave you four days since?"
"Every cent."
"I am afraid you squandered it."
"That is my business, Brief."
"You remember the warning I gave you at that time?"
"Come, Brief, you can't expect to keep me in leading-strings. I am
seeing life, and of course I must pay for it."
"A pretty round sum, too."
"Oh, well, I am making up for lost time. Old Baldwin kept me so
close that I had to live like a hermit for years. He starved me on
eight hundred dollars a year--the stingy old file!"
"Apparently you want to live at the rate of ten thousand dollars a
year now, Mr. Tremlett."
"Well, I can afford it for a year or two."
"You seem to forget that your income for the first year is not quite
five thousand."
"Then my creditors must wait, I am going to have my fling."
"It would make Mr. Baldwin turn in his coffin if he were to know
how you are wasting his substance."
"Very likely it would," said Tremlett, laughing heartily; "but there's
one comfort, he can't come back to trouble us."
"Don't be too sure of that, John Tremlett," said a voice which struck
terror to Tremlett's heart, and Mathew Baldwin walked out of the
inner office.
The young man's face turned as pale as ashes, and his knees knocked
together in his fright.
"Is it--you--Mr. Baldwin?" he ejaculated.
"Yes, it is I--your benefactor, the stingy old file, as you so gratefully
call me," answered the old man sternly.
"Then--you--are--not dead!"
"Not at present. How long I may live I cannot say, but long enough,
I hope, to do an act of justice."
"I am very sorry," stammered Tremlett. "Forgive me, sir."
"I may forgive you, because nothing has happened that cannot be
remedied; but I shall never again trust you."
"Won't you take me back into your service, sir?" entreated John
Tremlett desperately.
"Never!" said Mr. Baldwin emphatically.
"What will become of me?" ejaculated the miserable young man,
shedding maudlin tears. "I am penniless."
"I will not wholly cast you off. I will authorize Mr. Brief to pay
you eight hundred dollars during the next year, in monthly
installments. I hope you will turn over a new leaf."
"I will, sir; I will indeed," said Tremlett; but Mr. Baldwin, knowing
his past hypocrisy, did not put much faith in his penitence.
"I hope so, for your own sake," he said briefly. "You can go now,
sir. At the end of a month you can come back, and Mr. Brief
will pay you your monthly allowance."
"How can I live till then?" asked Tremlett. "Can't he pay it sooner?
I have but a dollar left."
"Sell some of your jewelry, that diamond ring, for instance. It will
maintain you till the money is payable."
John Tremlett left the office crestfallen, and cursing his foolish
prodigality, which had lost him a fine fortune.
"What are your plans, Mr. Baldwin?" asked the lawyer. "Shall
you remain in Montreal?"
"No, Mr. Brief; there is nothing to keep me here now. I shall make
my home in the States. This boy I have tested and found to be
true gold. He will not deceive me as John Tremlett has. With him
and his aunt I propose to make my home for the little time I have left."
"A very fine boy!" said Mr. Brief, regarding Ben in quite a different
light now that he was indirectly acknowledged to be a rich man's
heir.
"I shall leave you to manage my property here, Mr. Brief, for the
present at least. You will transmit the income to me as it accrues."
"You shall not repent your confidence, sir," said the lawyer. "How
soon do you leave the city?"
"To-morrow. Will that suit you, Ben?"
"Oh, yes, Uncle Matthew."
"He is a lucky boy," thought Mr. Brief, as the two went out. "His
future is provided for."