MRS. AVERY'S STORY.
The detective crossed the street, walked up a tiny footpath and rang the
bell of the small house.
Mrs. Avery came to the door, a gentle-faced little woman with white
hair. She looked inquiringly at the visitor.
"Mrs. Avery, I believe?" said the man in drab.
"That is my name."
"I would like the favor of a few words with you, madam."
"Come in then," and she led the way to a modest sitting-room.
"My husband," she said, introducing him to a kindly old man, as
white-haired as herself.
"My name is Fletcher," said the visitor, "and I have come to you for
information. But first, am I right in my belief that you were once in
charge of the Scranton poorhouse?"
"Yes, sir. My husband and I had charge of it for fifteen years. We
should have been there now, but for Squire Dixon, the new Overseer of
the Poor, who wanted the place for some friends of his, Mr. and Mrs.
Fogson."
"I have had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Fogson," said Fletcher with a
smile. "I am sure, now that I have seen you both, that the change was
for the worse."
"I fear that the poor people are very shabbily treated," said Mrs. Avery
gravely. "It makes me feel very badly, but what can I do? Squire Dixon
sustains them, and he has everything to say. But you say you want some
information. I shall be glad to tell you what I can."
"I want information touching a boy, now perhaps sixteen years of age,
bearing the name of Jed Gilman."
Mr. and Mrs. Avery immediately showed signs of interest.
"He has left the poorhouse," said Mr. Avery.
"So I am told."
"Do you inquire as a friend of the poor boy?" asked Mrs. Avery.
"Emphatically his friend. But first tell me, what kind of a boy is he?"
"A fine, manly, spirited lad, warm-hearted and attractive."
The detective looked pleased, but surprised.
"That doesn't correspond with what Mrs. Fogson told me," he said.
"I suppose not. She and her husband tried to bully Jed and overwork him,
till he was compelled to run away. I don't know where he is now."
"But I do. He is at Bar Harbor, in the company of a rich gentleman from
New York, and I believe employed on his yacht."
"I am thankful to hear it."
"But what I wish to learn are the circumstances attending his being
placed at the poorhouse. I suppose you remember them?"
"Oh yes, as well as if it were yesterday, though it is fourteen years
since."
"Go on, madam, I am all interest."
"It was a cold evening in November," began Mrs. Avery reflectively, "and
I was about to lock up, though it was but nine o'clock, for we kept
early hours at the poorhouse, when there was a knock at the door. I
opened it and saw before me a young woman of dark hair and complexion,
holding by the hand a pretty boy of about two years of age.
"'Can you give me and my boy a night's lodging?' she asked.
"We often had such applications, and never sent away a decent-looking
person. So I said yes readily enough and the two entered. They seemed
hungry, and though it was late for us I gave them some bread and milk,
of which the child in particular partook heartily. I asked the young
woman some questions but she was very close-mouthed.
"'Wait till morning,' she said. 'The boy and I are very tired.'
"I asked no more but gave them a bed, and I suppose they both slept
well. I was able to give them a small room to themselves.
"In the morning when I entered I found only the boy. The young woman had
gone, but pinned to the child's clothing was this note:
"'I am obliged to leave the boy with you for the present. I hope
you will take care of him. His name is Jed Gilman. Some time he
will probably be called for. Don't try to find me for it will be
useless.'
"That was all. Mr. Avery and myself were dumfounded, but we had taken a
fancy to the boy and resolved to keep him. There was some difficulty
about it, for he was not legally entitled to be brought up at the town's
cost. However, Mr. Avery and I agreed to pay part of the expense for the
first year, and after that he was looked upon as one of the regular
inmates and cared for as such."
"And the young woman never called again?"
"Never."
"Nor sent you any message, oral or written?"
"Never."
"Was there any article of dress, or any ornament, left with the child
that might help to identify it?"
"Yes. Wait here a minute and I will show you something which I have
carefully preserved from that day to this."