_The Arrival in New York._--_Frank Bruner determines to leave the
Service of his Master._--_The meeting of Frank Bruner and William
Bucholz._
The vagaries of the human mind under all circumstances are frequently
inscrutable, but under no other influence, perhaps, is the mind so
susceptible of impressions of a governing character from unimportant
causes as it is when controlled by the fear of personal safety.
It would readily be imagined that Henry Schulte, whose mind was
filled with vague but distressing apprehensions for his life, could
have found refuge, safe and unassailable, within the broad domain of
his own native land, and that he might have considered himself free
from impending danger if he could have placed even a short distance
between himself and those whom he believed to be his mortal enemies.
This, however, he found it impossible to do and rest contented; so,
resisting all the arguments that were urged by his faithful but
overtaxed servant and companion, and believing that his only safety
lay in his getting away from his native land, he persisted in coming
to America, where he felt assured he would be free from persecution,
and where, in the quiet and repose of rural retirement, his peace of
mind would be undisturbed.
That these fears must have been deeply-grounded there can be no
doubt, for this old man, in leaving the home of his childhood and the
many scenes which were endeared to him by the close association of
early friendship and experience, turned his back upon the spot where
he had first seen the light of day, and where he had grown from youth
to manhood. Here, too, the joy and sorrow of his life had come to
him, and in the little churchyard of the village, beneath the waving
trees, reposed all that was mortal of the one great love of his life.
Stolid and seemingly indifferent, so far as outward evidence gave any
demonstration, of the many tender associations surrounding him, he
left his native village and set off upon the long journey that was to
end in his death. Speeding away from the imagined assassin, he
journeyed directly to the presence and companionship of the man who
was to slay him.
Taking passage upon a steamer bound for America, they were soon
riding upon the broad bosom of the Atlantic, and after an uneventful
voyage landed safely in New York.
Not one of the many passengers of the vessel, or among the crowd that
stood upon the pier and watched their disembarking, would for a
moment have supposed that this old man, whose face gave evidence of
the years through which he had passed, whose clothing showed too
plainly the marks of long and hard usage, and whose general
appearance resembled that of a beggar, was the possessor of wealth
enough to render any of them independent of the world. Nor would they
have thought that the worn and frequently-patched coat he wore
concealed a sum of money equalling nearly a hundred thousand dollars.
Yet such was the fact; for upon his person he carried fully this
amount of money, most of which was in German mark bills, easily
convertible into American money; and which, should the fact become
known, would have been sufficient to excite the cupidity of many of
them, who would not hesitate to attempt the operation of relieving
him of his hoarded wealth, and who might, perhaps, scarcely consider
an old man's life of sufficient importance to successfully interfere
with their possessing themselves of his money.
He had jealously guarded his secret and his treasure, and although
his sleep was frequently disturbed by startling visions of robbery
and murder, not one of the many who surrounded him suspected for an
instant the wealth that he possessed.
To his servant he was generally reticent, but not so excessively
secretive, for Frank Bruner was well-informed of the extent of his
master's treasures, although he was not fully aware of the amount he
had brought with him.
Poor Frank led a miserable existence on that passage to New York, and
many times after he had settled himself in his berth for a
comfortable night's sleep he would be rudely awakened by his nervous
and suspicious master, who was continually imagining that somebody
was forcing an entrance into his state-room. He would start up with
affright, and nothing would allay his fears but a rigid examination
of the premises, which invariably resulted in finding nothing of a
suspicious or fear-inspiring nature.
Many times, upon remonstrating with his master about the
groundlessness of his fears, he would be made to feel the heaviness
of his hand, and chastisements were the reward of his devotion so
frequently that his usually submissive spirit began to rebel, and
Frank resolved to leave the service of so peculiar and so thankless a
master upon the first favorable opportunity that presented itself.
The journey, as we have said, was made in safety, and Henry Schulte,
with his wealth intact, arrived in New York, and, seeking a quiet,
comfortable hotel, he was directed to "THE CRESCENT," where he soon
wended his way, and to which he directed his servant to have his
trunks conveyed without delay.
The hotel which he had selected was a German boarding-house, of
modest dimensions and of unpretentious appearance. Over its doorway
swung the faded sign of the Crescent, and over its destinies presided
the portly, good-natured landlord, who dispensed the creature
comforts to the limited number of guests who lodged beneath his roof.
Henry Schulte entered the little room of the hotel which was used as
a bar-room, and, paying no attention to the other occupants, he
seated himself at one of the tables, ordered a bottle of wine, which
he proceeded to drink slowly until nearly finished, after which he
pushed the bottle and glass towards his thirsty and longing servant
and bade him consume the balance.
Seated around the room in various attitudes, but all engaged in the
occupation of smoking and drinking, were a number of men, all inmates
of the hotel, and all Germans, to whom the old man's appearance
naturally gave occasion for considerable curiosity.
Several attempts were made to cultivate his acquaintance and to
interrogate him upon the incidents of his passage over, but all of no
avail. He maintained a reserve that was impossible to overcome; his
answers were given in monosyllables, and, as but little encouragement
was given to friendly converse, he was finally left alone to enjoy
his musings.
At an early hour of the evening he signified his intention of
retiring, and, accompanied by his servant, he left the room and
shortly afterwards went to bed.
After attending to the requirements of the old gentleman, Frank
Bruner returned to the bar-room and joined the group sitting around
the table. His mind was fixed upon leaving a service that was
distasteful to him, and in which he was made to feel the hand of the
master too frequently and too heavily to be borne longer with
submission or silence. He was anxious, therefore, to make some
inquiries in regard to a change of position from those whom he
supposed would be acquainted with the facts he was desirous of
learning.
While they were thus conversing, a young man entered, and after
saluting those present in a careless, off-hand manner, he seated
himself among them. He was a tall, broad-shouldered young German,
with blonde hair and smoothly-shaven face; his eyes were large and of
a light blue color. His cheek-bones were rather prominent, and when
he laughed he displayed his teeth, which, being somewhat decayed,
gave a rather unpleasant expression to the countenance, otherwise he
was what might have ordinarily been considered a good-looking fellow.
Upon seating himself, he was jocularly questioned by one of the
number, in reference to some young lady, who was evidently known to
them all.
"Ah, William, how did you find the lovely Clara this evening?"
inquired his friend, in German.
William Bucholz, for that was the name of the new-comer, shrugged his
shoulders, and with an amused expression upon his face, answered:
"Oh, as well as usual, and quite as charming."
And then, perceiving the presence of Frank, he looked inquiringly at
his friends, and added: "Whom have we here?"
"A young man who has just arrived from Germany," was the reply.
Bucholz immediately arose, cordially shook hands with the stranger,
and engaged him in conversation.