ANOTHER HIDING PLACE
Mrs. Bangs breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the papers.
"You are certain you are right, Mr. Tuller?" she asked, anxiously.
"Yes."
"Where did those papers come from?"
"Mr. Bartlett's desk at the iron works."
"As they were in my husband's safe I think you ought to give them to
me."
"I will do so, Mrs. Bangs. But you must put them where they cannot be
found."
"Trust me for that."
"The officers of the law may search the whole house."
"Dare they do such a thing?"
"Yes, but if everything is found square your husband can sue Bartlett
for damages," and Jasper Tuller chuckled loudly. "It will be a good
joke on him."
"There are no more of the papers?"
"I will take another look and make sure."
This was done, but no more papers belonging to Philip Bartlett could be
found. Then the safe was locked once more.
"I will put these papers away at once," said Mrs. Bangs and left the
library with the documents in her hand. She was gone all of five
minutes and came back smiling quietly to herself.
"Now they are safe," she said. "Nobody can possibly find them."
"I am glad to hear it," answered Tuller. "Now I had better be
going--before Bartlett appears. Don't say anything about my having been
here."
"I will not."
"And another thing, Mrs. Bangs. Pretend not to know how to open the
safe. That will compel them to break it open, and your husband's case
against Bartlett will be so much stronger."
"I shall follow your advice, Mr. Tuller. But look, somebody is coming
already!" went on the fashionable woman, as a carriage turned in from
the road and came toward the horse block.
"I must get out of this! Can I go by a back door?"
"To be sure," said Mrs. Bangs, and showed the way. As Tuller slipped
out and passed toward the back road where Randy had had an encounter
with Bob Bangs, there came a ring at the front door.
"Good-morning, Mrs. Bangs," said Mr. Bartlett. "Is your husband at
home?"
"He is not," answered the fashionable woman, coldly.
"I've got a search warrant for this place," said the constable, pushing
his way in, and he proceeded to read the document aloud.
"This is an outrage!" cried Mrs. Bangs, with assumed dignity. "An
outrage, and you shall pay dearly for it, Mr. Bartlett. My husband is
no thief, to steal your papers."
"Perhaps not," answered Philip Bartlett. "Nevertheless, I am going to
have his safe searched and also this house."
"Well, since you have the law on your side, go ahead. But you shall
answer to my husband for this indignity."
The constable began his work, and the safe opener approached the strong
box and inspected it.
"Can you open it?" asked Mr. Bartlett, anxiously.
"With ease," was the answer. "This is one of the old-style safes."
"How much will it cost?"
"Ten dollars."
"Then go ahead."
The safe opener was soon at work. He turned the knob around slowly,
listening intently in the meanwhile. He worked thus for perhaps ten
minutes, when the door to the safe came open without an effort.
Mrs. Bangs was disappointed. She had expected that the safe would have
to be blown open in the most approved burglar fashion, and was
wondering what bill for damages she could render.
"You must have known the combination," she said, tartly, to the safe
opener.
"This is my business," was the quiet answer.
The constable, with Mr. Bartlett's aid, went through all the papers in
the safe. Of course the all-important documents were not found.
"Well?" asked the lawyer, after a long wait.
"They are not here," replied Mr. Bartlett. He felt sick at heart over
his failure to bring the papers to light.
"Not here!"
"No, they must have been removed."
The library was searched, and then a look was taken through the whole
house. Mrs. Bangs followed the men everywhere.
"You shall suffer for this outrage," she said to Mr. Bartlett several
times.
"I presume I shall have to stand for what I have done," he answered,
meekly. "Of one thing I am certain, Mrs. Bangs. Your husband has those
papers, or else he has destroyed them."
"You can say what you please, Mr. Bangs is an honest man and a
gentleman," retorted the fashionable woman.
At last there was nothing left to do but to leave the mansion, which
Mr. Bartlett did with reluctance.
"I am afraid I have made a mess of it," he said to his lawyer. "I was
certain we would find those papers."
"I am afraid you have hurt your case, Mr. Bartlett," answered the legal
light, bluntly. "Bangs will now be on his guard and will take good care
to keep those papers away from you."
"Perhaps he has destroyed them."
"That is not unlikely, since it would do him small good to keep them."
"What do you advise me to do next?"
"You had better wait and see what develops," said the lawyer.
The safe opener and the constable were paid off and Philip Bartlett
returned to Albany in anything but a happy frame of mind. A day or two
later he called upon Randy, when the steamboat tied up at the dock for
the night.
"My fat is in the fire," he said to our hero, and told of his failure
to locate the missing documents.
"Mr. Bartlett, I am sure Mr. Bangs said the papers were in his safe!"
cried Randy. "He must have taken them out when he returned home."
"You can be a witness if the matter is brought into court?"
"Of course. I remember very well all I heard."
"Well, that is something," answered Philip Bartlett, hopefully.
He went home and the next day received a strong letter from Amos Bangs
denouncing him for the action he had taken. Part of the letter ran as
follows:
"I should sue you for damages, only I do not wish to drag you into
court on account of your wife and family. In the future you need
expect no favors from me. I am done with you. If you want to sell
your stock in the iron company I will give you the market price,
not a cent more. Remember, I shall be on my guard against you in
the future, and if you dare to molest me again you shall take the
consequences."
"He will do what he can to ruin us," said Mrs. Bartlett when her
husband read the letter to her.
"I suppose so."
"What is the market price of the stock?"
"It has no regular market value now. Bangs will buy it for about ten
cents on the dollar."
"Oh, Philip, that is so little!"
"I'll not sell the stock," said Mr. Bartlett. "I'd rather lose every
cent than play into Amos Bangs's hands!"