Luke Harrison had picked up Harry's pocketbook, and, though knowing it
to be his, concealed the discovery upon the impulse of the moment.
"What I find is mine," he said to himself. "Of course it is. Harry
Walton deserves to lose his money."
It will be seen that he had already decided to keep the money. It looked
so tempting to him, as his eyes rested on the thick roll of bills--for,
though insignificant in amount, the bills were ones and twos, and twenty
in number--that he could not make up his mind to return it.
Luke was fond of new clothes. He wanted to reestablish his credit with
Merrill, for he was in want of a new coat and knew that it would be
useless to order one unless he had some money to pay on account. He
decided to use a part of Harry's money for this purpose. It would be
better, however, he thought, to wait a day or two, as the news of
the loss would undoubtedly spread abroad, and his order might excite
suspicion, particularly as he had been in Harry's company at the time
the money disappeared. He therefore put the pocketbook into his trunk,
and carefully locked it. Then he went to bed.
Meanwhile, Harry reached Mr. Leavitt's unconscious of the serious
misfortune which had befallen him. He went into the sitting room and
talked a while with Mr. Leavitt, and at ten o'clock took his lamp and
went up to bed. While he was undressing he felt in his pocket for his
money, intending to lock it up in his trunk as usual. His dismay may be
conceived when he could not find it.
Poor Harry sank into a chair with that sudden sinking of the heart which
unlooked-for misfortune brings and tried to think where he could have
left the pocketbook.
That evening he found himself under the necessity of buying a necktie at
the store, and so had taken it from his trunk. Could he have left it on
the counter? No; he distinctly remembered replacing it in his pocket. He
felt the need of consulting with somebody, and with his lamp in his hand
went downstairs again.
"You haven't concluded to sit up all night, have you?" asked Mr.
Leavitt, surprised at his reappearance.
"Are you sick, Harry?" asked Mrs. Leavitt. "You're looking dreadfully
pale."
"I've lost my pocketbook," said Harry..
"How much was there in it?" asked his employer.
"Thirty-three dollars," answered Harry.
"Whew! that's a good deal of money to lose. I shouldn't want to lose so
much myself. When did you have it last?"
Harry told his story, Mr. Leavitt listening attentively
"And you came right home?"
"Yes."
"Alone."
"No; Luke Harrison came with me."
"Are you two thick together?"
"Not at all. He doesn't like me, and I don't fancy him."
"What was he talking about?"
"He wanted me to join a sleighing party."
"What did you say?"
"I said I couldn't afford it. Then he charged me with being a miser, as
he often does."
"Did he come all the way home with you?"
"No; he left me at Deacon Brewster's. He said he must go back to the
store."
"There is something queer about this," said Mr. Leavitt, shrewdly. "Do
you want my advice?"
"Yes; I wish you would advise me, for I don't know what to do."
"Then go to the store at once. Ask, but without attracting any
attention, if Luke came back there after leaving you. Then ask
Mr. Meade, the storekeeper, whether he noticed you put back your
pocketbook."
"But I know I did."
"Then it will be well to say nothing about it, at least publicly. If you
find that Luke's excuse was false, and that he did not go back, go at
once to his boarding place, and ask him whether he saw you drop the
pocketbook. You might have dropped it and he picked it up."
"Suppose he says no?"
"Then we must watch whether he seems flush of money for the next few
days."
This seemed to Harry good advice. He retraced his steps to the store,
carefully looking for the lost pocketbook. But of course, it was not to
be seen and he entered the store troubled and out of spirits.
"I thought you went home, Harry," said Frank Heath.
"You see I am here again," said our hero.
"Time to shut up shop," said Mr. Meade, the storekeeper. "You boys will
have to adjourn till to-morrow."
"Where's Luke Harrison?" asked Frank Heath.
"Didn't he go out with you?"
"Yes; but he left me some time ago. He came back here, didn't he?"
"No; he hasn't been here since."
"He spoke of coming," said Harry. "He wanted me to join that sleighing
party."
"Good night, boys," said the storekeeper, significantly.
They took the hint and went out. Their way lay in different directions,
and they parted company.
"Now I must call on Luke," said Harry to himself.
"I hope he found the pocketbook. He wouldn't be wicked enough to keep
it."
But he was not quite so sure of this as he would like to have been. He
felt almost sick as he thought of the possibility that he might never
recover the money which he had saved so gladly, though with such painful
economy. It represented the entire cash earnings of eleven weeks.
Luke Harrison boarded with a Mr. Glenham, a carpenter, and it was at his
door that Harry knocked.
"Is Luke Harrison at home?" he inquired of Mrs. Glenham, who opened the
door.
"At home and abed, I reckon," she replied.
"I know it's late, Mrs. Glenham, but it is about a matter of importance
that I wish to see Luke."
"I reckon it's about the sleighing party."
"No, it is quite another thing. I won't stay but minute."
"Well, I suppose you can go up."
Harry went upstairs and knocked. Ordinarily, Luke would have been
asleep, for generally he sank to sleep five minutes after his head
touched the pillow; but to-night the excitement of his dishonest
intention kept him awake, and he started uneasily when he heard the
knock.
"Who's there?" he called out from the bed.
"It's I--Harry Walton."
"He's come about that pocketbook," thought Luke.
"I'm in bed," he answered.
"I want to see you a minute, on a matter of importance."
"Come to-morrow morning."
"I must see you now."
"Oh, well, come in, if you must," said Luke.