HOW JACK KING FARED
Jack King left the house with the money Browning had unwillingly given
him. He sought a cheap lodging and the next morning proceeded to make
himself respectable. When he had donned some clean linen, a suit of
clothes which he bought cheap at a second-hand store, taken a bath,
and called into requisition the services of a barber, it would have
been hard to recognize him as the same man who had emerged from under
the bed of the well-known philanthropist, a typical tramp and would-be
burglar.
Jack King counted over the balance of his money, and found that he had
nine dollars and thirty-seven cents left.
"This won't support me forever," he reflected. "I must get something
to do."
While sauntering along, he fell in with an old acquaintance named
Stone.
"What are you up to, King?" he asked.
"Looking for a job."
"You are my man, then. I am keeping a cigar store at the Prairie
Hotel, but I have some business calling me away from the city for six
weeks or two months. Will you take my place?"
"What are the inducements?"
"Board and lodging and five dollars a week."
"Agreed."
"Come over, then, and I will show you the place."
The hotel was a cheap one, not far from the railway station, and
though comfortable, was not patronized by fastidious travelers.
"When do you want me to take hold?" he asked.
"To-morrow."
"All right."
"Come around at ten o'clock. I want to leave Milwaukee in the
afternoon."
King could not help reflecting about the extraordinary prosperity of
his old comrade, Tom Butler, now Thomas Browning, Esq.
"What does it mean?" he asked himself. "He seemed very uneasy when I
asked him about Walton's money. I believe he kept it himself. I wish I
knew. If I could prove it, it would be a gold mine for me. I must make
inquiries, and, if possible, find out Walton's family."
"Do you know anything of Thomas Browning?" he asked Stone.
"The philanthropist? Yes. What of him?"
"I called on him last evening."
Jack did not think it best to mention the circumstances of his visit.
"Indeed! How did you know him?"
"In California."
"I suppose he laid the foundation of his fortune there."
"Is he so rich, then?"
"Yes, probably worth a quarter of a million."
This was an exaggeration, but rich men's wealth is generally
overstated.
"How does he stand in the city?"
"First-class. He has been mentioned for mayor. I shouldn't be
surprised if he might get the office some day."
"He has certainly been very lucky."
"I should say so. Was he rich in California?"
"Not when I knew him. At one time there he had to borrow money of me.
He paid me back last evening."
"He is on the top of the ladder now, at any rate."
"His respectability would suffer a little," thought Jack King, "if I
could prove that he had appropriated Walton's money. I must think the
matter over, and secure some information if I can."
The next Sunday evening he called at the house of the philanthropist,
and sent in his name.
Thomas Browning went himself to the door. He was afraid King might be
wearing the same disreputable suit in which he had made his former
visit. But to his relief his visitor looked quite respectable.
"Do you wish to see me?" he asked.
"Yes; but only for a social call. I am not acquainted in Milwaukee,
and it does me good to see an old friend and comrade."
"I have not much time to spare, but come in!"
They went into the philanthropist's library, formerly described.
"Have you found anything to do?" asked Browning.
"Yes."
"What is it?"
King answered the question.
"It is not much," he added, "but will do for the present."
"At any rate, it is considerably better than entering a house at night
and hiding under the bed," said Browning, dryly.
"So it is," answered King, smiling. "You must make allowance for my
destitute condition. I little thought that I was in the house of an
old friend. I have been asking about you, Tom Butler--I beg pardon,
Mr. Browning--and I find that you stand very high in Milwaukee."
A shade of annoyance showed itself on the philanthropist's face when
King referred to him under his former name, but when his high standing
was referred to he smiled complacently.
"Yes," he said, "I have been fortunate enough to win the good opinion
of my fellow-citizens."
"Some one told me that you would probably run for mayor some day."
"It may be. I have been sounded on the subject."
"The worst of running for office is that if a man has ever done
anything discreditable it is sure to be brought out against him."
"I hope you don't mean to imply that I have ever done anything
discreditable," said Browning, sharply.
"Oh, dear, no! How could I think such a thing? But sometimes false
charges are brought. If you had ever betrayed a trust, or kept money
belonging to another, of course, it would hurt you."
"Certainly it would," said the philanthropist, his voice betraying
some nervousness, "but I am glad to say that my conscience is clear on
that point."
"By the way, Jack, let me send for a bottle of wine. We'll drink to
the memory of old time."
"With all my heart, Tom. I see you're the right sort. When you are
nominated for office I will work for you."
Browning smiled graciously on his visitor, and the interview closed
pleasantly.
"He's afraid of me!" thought Jack, as he left the house.