A HEART OF GOLD
It had been a strenuous day for Frank. He and his mother had put in
double duty at the office that afternoon. Everything in the mail order
business was moving along smoothly. Only this complication of Dale
Wacker and Markham comprised a disturbing, unsettled element in the
situation.
It was a beautiful moonlight night. Frank enjoyed the quiet of the hour
after the stirring turmoil of the day, and prolonged his stroll. Almost
instinctively his footsteps led him in the direction of the scene of the
main commotion of the day--Main Street Block.
“Hello,” said Frank suddenly and in some surprise, as, passing its
gloomy entrance, he observed a solitary figure seated on a step in its
shadow.
Frank recognized the man whom the marshal had appointed as custodian of
the raided mail order concern up-stairs.
“Oh, that you, Newton?” spoke the man in a somewhat embarrassed way.
“Yes,” replied Frank, “just headed for bed. Enjoying the fine evening?”
“Well,” said the custodian slowly, “I can’t say I am. Sort of lonely.
Don’t be in a rush. Dull and sleepy hanging around this desolate old
barracks.”
“Why don’t you go to bed, then?” suggested Frank. “There’s a comfortable
cot upstairs there.”
“Ugh,” responded the custodian, with a grim shudder--“catch me!”
“Why, what’s the matter?” pressed Frank, discerning that something
really was wrong.
“I believe the place is haunted. I have heard some awful groans.”
Frank was interested, and finally said he would go with the watchman and
make an investigation. For quarter of an hour they found nothing, then
Frank discovered the form of a man lying in the bottom of a disused coal
chute. The man was in great pain. Much to the youth’s amazement the
fellow proved to be Gideon Purnell.
Frank questioned the rascal and found out Purnell had been Wacker’s
partner in the dishonest mail order scheme. Purnell had fallen down the
chute while trying to escape from the marshal. His back was injured and
the fellow was in a dying condition. He begged Frank to take him to
some place where he could die in peace.
“I am sorry for you,” said Frank. “If you really are badly hurt--”
“Don’t doubt it. I know what I’m talking about,” said Purnell. “I’ve
only a few days left.”
“I want to do right,” said Frank slowly.
“Then help a poor, broken wretch to die in peace,” pleaded Purnell.
“I’ll be back soon,” said Frank simply, deeply affected himself.
Frank acted on an impulse he could hardly control. He ran to the Haven
home and roused up Darry and Bob. There was animated explanation and
discussion.
Half-an-hour later, secret and stealthy as midnight marauders, the trio
of friends wheeled the Haven Brothers’ delivery hand cart down the alley
behind Main Street Block.
“Bet the fellow played you--bet he’s made off,” predicted Bob.
However, they found Purnell just where Frank had left him, only
insensible now. They lifted him, a dead weight, into the cart. Then Bob,
piloting the way, warned Frank and Darry of late pedestrians, and thus
they reached Frank’s home.
“Where am I--in a hospital?” spoke Purnell weakly, arousing from his
stupor an hour later.
“You are at my home,” said Frank, coming to the side of the comfortable
bed where the sufferer lay.
“Oh, no! no!” panted Purnell. “Let me hide my head with shame--let me
die. In your home--under the roof of the people I ruined--robbed! Heaven
have pity on me!”
“Don’t think about that,” said Frank soothingly. “We have tried to make
you comfortable. In the morning we will get a doctor.”
“Not a doctor, boy, no, but a lawyer,” spoke Purnell in broken tones.
“Boy, the meanest thing I ever did was to rob your mother of her
fortune. Let the last thing I can do on earth be to give it back to
her.”
Frank remained by the side of the sufferer until early morning. Then Bob
Haven came with a telegram from Stet.
“Hurrah! Markham is found!” cried Frank, reading the message. “Stet
found him in a coal mine. He was a prisoner.”
“Good for Stet!” said Bob.
“Just what I say. Markham is coming here. Bob, the skies are clearing,
it would seem.”
“I am glad of it, Frank.”
The news about Markham was indeed true. He had been kept a prisoner in
an abandoned mine by an old man who was a tool of Wacker. The old man
had been well-thrashed by Stet and had fled to parts unknown. Markham
had quite a story to tell, as we shall soon see.