CHAPTER XXXVI
OLD ACQUAINTANCES
“Now, what have you to say about Bradley Wentworth?” asked Hastings abruptly, as they walked slowly up the road.
“First, let me ask you how long you have known him?”
“How long have I known him? Before you were born, youngster – a matter of twenty years, I should say.”
“Did you know a man who was in the employ of Wentworth’s uncle at the same time – Warren Lane?”
Hastings started.
“What do you know of Warren Lane?” he asked abruptly.
“He was my father,” answered Gerald.
“Your father! But I heard that he had died, leaving no son.”
“My poor father is dead, but I am as much alive as you are. Who told you that I was dead?”
“Bradley Wentworth wrote me to that effect.”
“Bradley Wentworth would not be sorry to hear that I was dead, but he knows better. He has seen and spoken with me more than once during the last six months. He was at our cabin in Colorado when my poor father died.”
“He is false and treacherous as he always was!” said Hastings bitterly.
“I can believe that. I consider him to be my bitter enemy, as he was my father’s.”
“Then you know – the secret?”
“You refer to the forgery? Yes. How much do you know about it?”
“Everything,” answered Hastings emphatically.
“You know then his compact with my father?”
“I know of it. I was the only one that did know of it outside of your father and Bradley Wentworth himself.”
“Then you probably know how basely he refused to pay my father the sum agreed upon for his sacrifice of reputation.”
“I know that, too. The sum was twenty thousand dollars, was it not?”
“Yes, it was a debt of honor, or should have been considered such. I don’t care so much for the money, but it was the price of my father’s sacrifice, and in justice to his memory and his ruined life, I want this man to pay it.”
“That’s sentiment, youngster. I should want the money for itself.”
“I can earn my own living. I am earning it now.”
“Where are you working?”
“In St. Louis. I am traveling for Gilbert Sandford, of that city. He is a well-known merchant.”
“Never heard of him. You are young to travel for such a firm,” continued Hastings, eying Gerald curiously.
“Yes, he engaged me as a favor, but I think that he has found my services satisfactory, or he would not have taken me from the store and sent me out on the road.”
“You must be smart, youngster. Did your father leave you anything?”
“A cabin and a few acres of land among the foothills of Colorado.”
“Have you any evidence of the agreement made by Bradley Wentworth?”
“I have two letters written by him on the subject, in which the matter is plainly referred to.”
“Does he know that you have them?”
“Yes; he tried to buy them from me.”
“What did he offer?”
“A thousand dollars.”
“Then he considers your claim good. And you refused?”
“Of course!” answered Gerald indignantly. “Do you think I would compromise such a thing?”
“I don’t know. A thousand dollars would be a mighty convenient sum to handle.”
“I am not willing to pay so high a price for it. You must have been in Mr. Wentworth’s confidence or you would not have known of the forgery.”
“Why shouldn’t I know it? I was the paying teller of the bank, and I cashed the check in the ordinary course of business.”
“And the check – who presented it?” asked Gerald eagerly.
“Bradley Wentworth himself.”
“Then you knew all the while that it was he that was the forger and not my father?”
“Yes.”
“Then what kept you silent?”
“Bradley Wentworth’s money,” answered Hastings significantly.
“Yet you tell me.”
“Because he has thrown me off. I wrote him ten days since for a beggarly fifty dollars, and he refused to send it to me. In fact he defied me, writing that there was no one alive to feel an interest in the secret I had to sell. That is the sort of man Bradley Wentworth is. Stay, I will show you the letter,” and he began to explore his pockets.
“I can’t find it,” he said, after an ineffectual search, with an expression of perplexity, “and yet I had it when I went to the hotel an hour since.”
“Is this it?” asked Gerald, producing the torn letter already referred to.
“Yes, yes! How came you by it?”
“I found it on the floor of the hotel where you dropped it. You must excuse my reading it. I should not have done so if I had not seen the name of Bradley Wentworth signed to it. Everything that relates to him has an interest for me, and when I read it I felt that it must relate to my father.”
“Yes, it does. I am glad to meet you, boy. I forget your first name.”
“Gerald.”
“I remember now. Why, I was in the church when you were baptized. There’s some difference between now and then.”
“I suppose I must have changed some,” said Gerald smiling.
“Yes; you have become a fine, manly boy. You don’t look like your father, but you remind me of your mother. My wife would like to see you. She always liked your mother. Can’t you come round and take supper with us,” and then he hesitated and looked embarrassed; “but I am afraid we can’t offer you much that is inviting,” he added.
“I will come with pleasure, Mr. Hastings,” said Gerald, “and as I am afraid you have been out of luck, will you allow me to lend you a small sum?”
Hastings took the ten dollars extended to him and his face brightened.
“Now I am not afraid to have you come,” he said. “My wife’s a good cook when she has the wherewithal. We’ve been reduced to short-commons lately.”
“Well,” said the clerk, as Gerald returned to the hotel, “did you call on Tom Hastings?”
“Yes; I found him at home. I am going there to supper to night.”
“You don’t say so!” ejaculated the clerk in astonishment. “Did Tom Hastings invite you?”
“Yes; he and his wife used to know my father and mother.”
“You will excuse my suggesting it, but it might be wise for you to eat something here before you go over. Hastings isn’t much in the habit of entertaining strangers, and I don’t think he sets a very good table.”
“I think there will be a good supper to-night,” said Gerald. “At any rate I will risk it.”
He proved to be right. Mrs. Hastings was a good cook when she had the wherewithal, as her husband expressed it, and she did her best, going herself to the village market for supplies. It is safe to say that Gerald fared better than he would have done at the hotel.
He was very cordially received by Mrs. Hastings, who indulged in reminiscences of his mother, to which he listened eagerly.
“She was a good woman,” said Mrs. Hastings, “and I was grieved to hear of her death. I am sure she would have lived longer but for the wicked plot of Bradley Wentworth against your father.”
“You knew about it?”
“Yes; and I could not bear to think that my husband was aiding and abetting him in his wicked scheme. I hope the time will come when his injustice will be repaired.”
“I think it will, Mrs. Hastings. To that end I have been working ever since my father’s death. I think Providence directed me to your husband as the man who could help me. His testimony will be most important.”
“And it will be forthcoming, Gerald,” said Mr. Hastings. “I have stood by Bradley Wentworth long enough. I never liked him as well as your father, and I am prepared to help you because you are the son of Warren Lane.”
“Thank you, Mr. Hastings.”
“I am a poor man. Still I make no condition. When you come to your own you will not forget that I helped you to it.”
“I shall not forget it, Mr. Hastings. Do I understand that you will be ready to give your testimony whenever I may call upon you?”
“I promise it. When do you leave Brentwood?”
“To-morrow morning, but it will not be long before you will hear from me.”
CHAPTER XXXVII
A LETTER FROM GULCHVILLE
When Gerald returned to St. Louis after a longer trip than he had originally contemplated, he was cordially received.
“You have succeeded remarkably well, Gerald,” said his employer. “I have never before employed so young a traveling salesman, and I may add that I have never sent one out of any age who succeeded as well on his first trip.”
“If you are satisfied with me,” said Gerald modestly, “I am very glad.”
“It will not be long before I shall have occasion to send you again. Meanwhile I will add five dollars a week to your salary.”
It often happens that one piece of good luck follows another.
Two days after Gerald’s return he received a letter from John Carter, who, it will be remembered, was left to occupy, rent free, the cabin in Gulchville, which had been Gerald’s old home. On making an engagement with the St. Louis firm Gerald had sent his address to Carter, with the request that he would from time to time communicate with him, in case there should be any news which he ought to know.
This was the material portion of the letter:
“I would have written you before, but had nothing to interest you. I have made a good living, having employment most of the time in logging. I am able to live comfortably, and my son Oscar is as happy as the day is long. He is no longer weak and puny, as he was when we first came here, but is strong and healthy, with red cheeks.
“Your friend (?) Jake Amsden is drinking more than ever. It is a mystery where he gets his money from. At any rate he seems to have a fair supply. I am sure he does not earn it, for he does not work one day in the week on the average. He seems to be very much interested in this claim, and hinted more than once that he would like to buy it and pay a fair price. I asked him how he expected to pay for it. He answered with an air of mystery that he had a friend who would furnish the money. I am inclined to think this friend is Bradley Wentworth, for I hear at the post-office that Amsden gets letters from Seneca at intervals.
“This brings me to the important part of my letter. Gulchville is booming! A land company represented by two Chicago men are here, buying up land, with the intention of laying out a town and selling lots. They want this property. It so happens that your land will be in the center of the town, as laid out by them. They tried to open negotiations with me, but I told them I was not the owner. They are anxious to meet you and talk matters over. You may be surprised when I tell you that you can probably get five thousand dollars for the land you own. Of course the cabin don’t count. That I should like to buy from you and move to some land farther away.
“I advise you to come on at once, for the parties are in a hurry, and it is best to strike while the iron is hot. The time you will lose in your business won’t amount to anything in comparison with the sum you will obtain from the sale of the property.
“I enclose a letter just received for you, bearing the Seneca postmark. I presume you can guess who wrote it.
“Yours truly,“John Carter.”
This was great news, and made Gerald feel like a rich man, or, rather, boy, but curiosity led him to open at once the letter from Seneca.
“It read thus:
“Gerald Lane:
“I have no particular reason to feel friendly toward you, as you have rejected all my offers made in kindness, but I do not forget that your father and I were young men together. I am aware, of course, that your future is very precarious, as the engagement you have at present with the English tourist is likely to terminate at an early day. What will become of you then?
“In view of your unfortunate position I will buy the cabin and land which your father left to you. Its intrinsic value is very small, but I will give you a thousand dollars for it, which I imagine is more than can be got for it five years hence. However, I offer it as a favor to you, who are the son of my old acquaintance and fellow-clerk. It will be necessary for you to give me an early answer, otherwise I shall consider you are blind to your own interest, in which case I cannot promise to leave the offer open.
“I send the letter to the care of the man who lives on your place, as he will probably know where to forward it to you.
“Yours, etc.,“Bradley Wentworth.”
“P. S. – I don’t care to buy the papers, as the sum you are offered for the property will put you in good circumstances.”
Gerald smiled as he finished reading this letter.
“Evidently,” he said to himself, “Bradley Wentworth knows that there is a scheme to boom real estate in Gulchville. He doesn’t offer enough.”
CHAPTER XXXVIII
GERALD SELLS HIS PATRIMONY
“Mr. Sandford, do you think you can spare me for a short time?” asked Gerald, as he entered the presence of his employer.
Mr. Sandford looked surprised.
“This is a busy season,” he said. “Still if you have a good reason for wishing to be absent – ”
“I have a good reason,” answered Gerald. “I own some land in Gulchville, Colorado – eighty-five acres – and a rich syndicate formed in Chicago wants to buy it.”
“That is a very good reason,” said the merchant. “How much do they offer?”
“No definite offer has been made, but my tenant thinks they will be willing to pay me five thousand dollars.”
“Excellent. I was not aware that my youngest clerk was a man of property. Go by all means and make the best bargain you can.”
Gerald lost no time. He took the afternoon train to Kansas City, and thence went partly by cars and partly by stage to his old home in Gulchville. When he descended from the stage he saw at once a familiar face and figure. They belonged to Jake Amsden, who advanced to meet him with an eager welcome.
“Glad to see you, Gerald! How you’ve grown!” and Amsden grasped his hand as if they had always been the closest of friends.
“Thank you, Mr. Amsden,” said Gerald, smiling. “I didn’t imagine you would be so glad to meet me.”
“I’ve been longin’ to see you, my boy. It’s been very lonesome without you. And where is the Englishman you went away with?”
“He’s gone back to England. There was sickness in the family.”
“Is he coming back here?”
“I don’t know.”
“So you are comin’ back here to live?”
“No; I think not. I have a situation with a large firm in St. Louis. I am only here on a vacation.”
“That reminds me, Gerald. If you’ve got five minutes to spare I would like to talk with you on business.”
“I can give you five minutes, Mr. Amsden.”
“It’s about that place your father left you. It isn’t worth much, but I’ve been thinkin’ I’d like to settle down in a home of my own, and that place about suits me.”
“But,” said Gerald, who saw Amsden’s drift, “I would not like to turn Tom Carter out of his home.”
“No need of it, Gerald. I’d get him to board me, and I’d pay him somethin’, besides giving him his rent free.”
“Suppose I wait and consult Mr. Carter about it.”
This proposal did not suit Amsden, who knew that in that case Gerald would hear about the land speculation, and then his plans would fail utterly.
“Don’t wait for that, Gerald! Let’s fix the matter on the spot.”
“What do you propose to pay me for the property, Mr. Amsden?”
Jake Amsden closed one eye and assumed a contemplative look.
“I don’t know but I’d be willin’ to give you five hundred dollars, Gerald. That’s a good deal of money.”
“Have you got that sum of money in cash, Mr. Amsden?”
“Well, not exactly, but I’ll give you my note indorsed by a reliable party.”
“I would wish to know the name of the party.”
“Bradley Wentworth, of Seneca, Illinois. You know him as the man that was visitin’ you when your father died.”
“And you think he would indorse your note?”
“I know he would. He feels very friendly to me, Mr. Wentworth does.”
“And you offer me five hundred dollars?”
“Yes; and say twenty-five more for interest. Come now, what do you say?”
“I say no, Mr. Amsden. I have a letter in my pocket offering me a thousand dollars for the property.”
“Who is it from?” asked Amsden, making a grammatical mistake that plenty of better educated persons also make.
“Bradley Wentworth!”
“Oh!” exclaimed Amsden in chagrin. “He promised to leave the matter in my hands.”
“So you were bidding for him?”
“Well, partly for him and partly for myself.”
“And you really think you have offered me a fair price?”
“Yea; you can’t get as much anywhere else.”
“I’ll take three days to consider it, Mr. Amsden.”
In less than three days Gerald had sold his land for six thousand dollars, reserving twenty acres for himself. He allowed John Carter to remove his cabin to this tract, and at the end of a week set out on his return, with a Chicago check for six thousand dollars in his pocket. This he deposited in St. Louis, and with it made a purchase of good dividend-paying bank stock.
CHAPTER XXXIX
CONCLUSION
On his way back from Colorado Gerald stopped at Kansas City and ascertained that Victor Wentworth had recovered from his sickness and was intending to go to work on the following Monday.
“Mrs. Ferguson has agreed to take me back,” he said. “She has had another boy, but she does not like him.”
“You can’t make any arrangements without the consent of your guardian,” said Gerald smiling. “I have other views for you.”
“You can’t be any older than I,” said Victor, “but I feel like a small boy beside you. I wish I was as strong and self-reliant as you.”
“We were brought up differently, Victor. You are the son of a rich man, while my father was very poor.”
“My father’s wealth doesn’t seem to do me any good,” said Victor sadly. “He leaves me to myself, and if it had not been for you I don’t know what would have become of me.”
“It will be different soon. I want you to take the next train for St. Louis with me.”
“That is on the way home,” said Victor, brightening.
“And I am going to take you home. I have some business with your father.”
“But if father will not receive me?” suggested Victor apprehensively.
“Then I will take care of you. You will in that case have to call me papa.”
Victor laughed aloud. Gerald’s bright humor was infectious.
“I will if you ask me to,” he said.
Gerald’s plans were already laid. He wrote to Thomas Hastings to come at once to St. Louis, and three days later all three started for Chicago. There Gerald called upon Stephen Cochrane, the lawyer, who had in his possession the agreement signed by Mr. Wentworth to pay Warren Lane twenty thousand dollars in a certain contingency.
“The promise is outlawed,” said the lawyer, “but with the collateral evidence which you have in your possession I don’t think that Bradley Wentworth will feel like setting this up as a bar to the payment.”
We must now precede Gerald to the town of Seneca, which was his ultimate destination.
A change had come over Bradley Wentworth. He was a man of iron constitution and had never had a sick day in his life. Yet a few weeks previous the grip, which had recently ravaged the country from the Atlantic to the Pacific, attacked him, and though he had recovered from it the languor which usually follows had come upon him in an aggravated form. He found it difficult to attend to his business, and was obliged to spend half of his time reclining upon a lounge in his office.
Those who are seldom sick feel the effects of illness much more keenly than those who are frequently indisposed. Bradley Wentworth found himself depressed in an unaccountable manner. He became alarmed about himself, and feared that he would never regain his strength. What then would become of his property? Where was the boy for whom he had been laboring these many years, and whom he had fondly looked upon as his heir? He was an exile from home, suffering perhaps. Why was he an exile from his father’s house? Because, as he was compelled to acknowledge, he had been harsh and stern, unnaturally severe. For, after all, what had the boy done? He had not committed a crime. He had committed an act of youthful indiscretion, for which he was heartily sorry, yet to save his own pride and gratify his vindictive disposition the father had left the boy to the cold mercies of the world. Suppose Victor should die? What lay before him but a cold and solitary life, without object and without sympathy? Too late Bradley Wentworth lamented his refusal to send Victor money when he wrote for it.
“I must have him back,” he said to himself in feverish impatience, and began to institute a search for the lost boy. But he was without a clew. He despatched a messenger to Kansas City, but he returned without information.
It was while he was suffering from this disappointment, and anxiously considering what to do next, that a servant entered the room where he was resting after supper and presented a card.
“A young gentleman who wishes to see you,” she explained.
Mechanically Bradley Wentworth scanned the card and read the name,
GERALD LANE
“Bring him in,” he said quickly.
“Probably,” he thought, “Gerald has repented his refusal and is ready to enter into negotiations for the sale of his small patrimony in Colorado.”
Gerald entered the room with an easy grace, and bowed to Mr. Wentworth. The merchant could see that he was no longer the unsophisticated boy whom he had met in the Colorado mountains. Still he did not give Gerald credit for the full change which had passed over him.
“Be seated,” he said. “I suppose you have come about the land your father left you in Colorado.”
“No, Mr. Wentworth, I have sold this land, or at least four-fifths of it.”
Wentworth looked disappointed.
“You should have accepted my offer,” he said harshly.
“I should have made a very great mistake if I had,” replied Gerald calmly.
“How much did you sell it for?”
“I sold four-fifths of it for six thousand dollars.”
Mr. Wentworth was amazed, but he gathered strength to say, “Probably you will never get your money.”
“It was paid me in cash, and I have it invested in good dividend-paying bank stock in St. Louis.”
“Then,” said Wentworth after a pause, “I don’t understand what has brought you here.”
“I have some very important business with you, Mr. Wentworth. I have come to ask you to redeem the solemn promise made to my father to pay him twenty thousand dollars.”
“This is all nonsense,” said Wentworth, knitting his brows. “No such promise was ever made.”
“I beg your pardon, but I can prove to the contrary.”
“Perhaps you will tell me how,” sneered Wentworth.
“My lawyer, Stephen Cochrane of Chicago, is at the hotel. He has in his hands the written promise.”
“It is a forgery. There could be no reason for my making such an extraordinary promise.”
“Do you deny, Mr. Wentworth, that you forged a check on your uncle and that my father screened you?”
“Young man, you are impudent. The check was forged by your father.”
“That is untrue. The letters written by you to my father disprove that.”
“Can you produce those letters?” asked Wentworth with another sneer.
“Yes, I can.”
Bradley Wentworth looked amazed.
“I don’t believe it,” he ejaculated.
“Mr. Wentworth,” said Gerald calmly, “the letters which your agent stole from me in St. Louis were copies. The originals are in a safe deposit vault in St. Louis, or rather they were there at the time of the robbery. Now they are in Mr. Cochrane’s hands.”
“This is a bold game you are playing, Gerald Lane, but it won’t work. No one can connect me with the forged check.”
“There is one who can. Thomas Hastings, who was paying teller at the bank when it was offered.”
“He is dead!” said Wentworth hastily.
“I think you are mistaken.”
“Then where is he?”
“He was at Brentwood, Minnesota, till recently. It was there that I met him a few weeks since.”
“I doubt if you will find him there now,” answered Wentworth, registering a resolve to send a special telegram to him to change his residence in consideration of a handsome check.
“You are right, Mr. Wentworth,” was Gerald’s unexpected reply. “He is in this town.”
“What!” ejaculated Wentworth in dismay.
“It is as I say. He is prepared to testify that he paid you personally the money on the forged check, and that you have from time to time paid him money to keep this secret.”
“No one will believe him,” said Wentworth, very much perturbed.
“You can discuss that question with Mr. Cochrane. I have merely wished to let you know the strength of our case. But before I go I ought to tell you that there is another person who has come with me from the West.”
“Who is it in Heaven’s name?”
“It is your son Victor.”
“Victor!” exclaimed Bradley Wentworth, his face radiant with joy. “Is he well? Where is he?”
“At the hotel.”
“Where did you find him?”
“In Kansas City some weeks since. The poor boy was sick and unable to work. I had him leave the store where he was employed, though hardly able to stand, and I paid the expenses of his sickness. He is now well and anxious to see his father.”
Bradley Wentworth’s face worked convulsively. His hard heart was touched at last.
“God bless you, boy,” he said; “you have restored my son to me. I shall not forget it. You can send your lawyer to me. I will do what is fair and right; I begin to think that I have been wrong all these years.”
“Will you consent to authorize a statement clearing my father from any connection with the forged check?”
“Yes, as long as I am not personally implicated.”
“Mr. Cochrane tells me that this can be arranged – ”
“If Victor is at the hotel I will go over at once.”
Victor, uneasy and anxious, saw his father coming across the street. He did not know how he would be received, but he was not left long in suspense. The father’s hard heart was softened, and he felt sincerely grateful that his only child had been restored to him.
The next week the Seneca weekly published a card from Mr. Wentworth stating that a discovery had been made exonerating the late Warren Lane from the charge which had so long been laid at his door. “The guilt lies elsewhere,” so the card read, “but at this late day it is unnecessary to mention the name of the actual delinquent.”
The debt of honor was paid, and Warren Lane’s memory was vindicated.
Gerald felt that the task to which he had consecrated his energies was accomplished, and he could rest content. He is already rich for a young man, but he cares little for money compared with his father’s vindication.