CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A WICKED COMPACT
Mrs. Brackett knew very little of the way in which her brother had passed the last eight years. She knew nothing of his lawless life and conviction of crime, and supposed that his record was as creditable as the average. She was, therefore, quite ready to give him a cordial welcome, and to consult him upon family matters. Through her influence, also Mr. Brackett received his brother-in-law with a friendly welcome, acknowledging his claims as a relative.
As for George White, his object in seeking out his sister after so long an absence may be easily told. In fact, it was twofold. He was hard up, and hoped that he might borrow a sum of money from Lucinda, and also was glad to betake himself to a quiet place so far from New York, being quite too well known to the police authorities of the metropolitan district.
He at was present a fugitive from justice, having recently made an attempt to enter a house in Brooklyn, and failed, through the wakefulness of a member of the household.
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett and George White sat in a conclave together one evening soon after his arrival. They were discussing the obstinacy of Simon Dodge in deferring to make a will in favor of his disinterested son-in-law.
“Can’t you persuade him to do it, Mr. Brackett?” asked White.
“I’ve tried my best, and failed,” said Brackett. “You see the old man’s dreadfully obstinate when he sets about it. It’s my opinion he’s afraid to make a will for fear it will hasten his death.”
“Maybe it would, if he made a will in your favor,” said White, with a knowing wink at his brother-in-law.
“George, I am shocked at you!” said his sister. “You shouldn’t say such things. Suppose father should hear you?”
“It might make him nervous, I dare say,” said White, coolly. “Seems to me you act like a couple of children, you two. If I were in your place I’d see that a proper will was made.”
“How would you manage it?” asked Brackett.
“How would I manage it? It’s the simplest thing in the world. Is the old man’s signature hard to imitate?”
“You don’t mean – ” ejaculated Brackett, looking about him nervously.
“Yes, I do.”
“But it would be forgery, and that is a serious offense.”
“Nothing venture, nothing have!” said White, boldly. “The property ought to come to you and my sister. You agree to that, don’t you?”
“Of course it ought,” said Mr. Brackett. “Haven’t we done everything for father, and slaved for his comfort?”
“Just so! And you ought to be rewarded. It’s a very simple thing, as I have already said,” continued White, shaking the ashes from his pipe.
Mr. Brackett was a little startled, but was not shocked. His morality was not of a high order, and he shrank from forgery only because it was a penal offense. He felt a little curious to inquire into the details of his brother-in-law’s plan.
“Supposing I agreed to it,” he said, cautiously, “I haven’t any skill in imitating writing. I couldn’t write a will that would look like father’s.”
“Only the signature would need to resemble his handwriting,” said White. “I’m pretty good at imitating signatures myself,” he added, carelessly. “Have you got any of the old man’s writing?”
“Yes; I’ve got a letter here,” said Brackett, going to his desk and producing one from a drawer.
“That could be imitated easily,” said White, after a casual examination.
“I’ll leave you two to talk business at your leisure,” said Mrs. Brackett. “I must go upstairs and look after the children.”
Her brother looked after her with a mocking smile.
“Lucinda’s sharp and cautious,” he remarked. “She thinks it best not to know anything about it, though she’ll be ready enough to profit by it. Come, now, Brackett, I’ve a proposal to make.”
“What is it?”
“I’ll draw up such a will as you think best, and sign and witness it.”
“That’s very kind of you, George – ”
“Hold on a minute! You don’t suppose I’m so benevolent as to do all this without pay, do you?”
“I didn’t know,” answered Brackett, his jaw dropping.
“I’m not such an idiot, thank you! I must have a hundred dollars down, and a thousand dollars when you come into the property.”
“That’s rather steep!” said Brackett, disturbed.
“It isn’t enough; but you are my sister’s husband, and I’ll work for you cheaper than for anyone else. I’d charge anybody else at least twice as much. Well, Brackett, what do you say?”
“It seems a great deal of money to pay for an hour’s work. It won’t take you more than an hour.”
“You seem to forget there’s some risk about it. Such work as that you can’t measure by the time it takes.”
“Lucindy would never agree to such terms as that.”
“The more fool she! Didn’t you tell me the old man was good for over ten thousand dollars?”
“Yes; he must have at least as much as that.”
“And I ask only a thousand dollars to give it to you.”
“Father might make a will himself, leaving it to us,” suggested Brackett. “In that case, the money would be thrown away.”
“You oughtn’t to begrudge it to your wife’s brother, even then,” said White. “Still, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you get the money by any other will, you needn’t pay me the thousand dollars. Isn’t that fair?”
This proposal struck Mr. Brackett favorably, and this was the compact ultimately formed.
Mrs. Brackett opposed it strenuously at first, being unwilling to relinquish so much money, even in favor of her own brother; but she was at last persuaded that it would be better to have nine-tenths of the property than none at all, and consented.
Several conferences were held, and the date of the forged will was carefully discussed. At length it was decided to fix upon a time six months earlier, and to affix the names, as witnesses, of two men who then lived in the village, but had now gone West, and were not likely to return. Indeed, it was reported that one of them was dead, which, of course, would make it impossible for him to deny his signature.
One evening it chanced that Andy, who had gone to the village, returned sooner than he intended on account of a sudden headache. In passing the window of the room where the conspirators were seated, he heard a chance word which arrested his attention.
The window, without the knowledge of Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, was slightly open, but this was hidden from view by the curtain, and through the aperture our hero had no difficulty in overhearing enough to satisfy him what was going on.
Of course his duty was clear. He must inform Mr. Dodge. The next morning an opportunity came. He not only told uncle Simon what his son-in-law was doing, but for the first time made him acquainted with the real character of Mrs. Brackett’s brother.
Simon Dodge was silent for a time from amazement.
“I didn’t think it possible,” he said, “that Jeremiah Brackett would stoop to such a crime.”
“I believe it is Mr. White who has put him up to it,” said Andy.
“Perhaps you are right. At any rate, this confirms me in my resolution to go away. Next week, Henry, we will leave the old farm, where I have spent so many years, and in your mother’s house I will spend the short time that remains to me.”
“I am glad to hear you say so, Uncle Simon. I shall be very glad to get away myself.”
“It is no longer safe for me to stay here,” said the old man. “Once this will is forged, they will be impatient for me to die. As for their wicked scheming, it will avail them nothing. My true will is made, and in the hands of my lawyer, and is later than the date they have selected for the pretended one.”
It was well that Mr. Dodge could not foresee the trying experience that awaited him before he could sunder the bonds that bound him to the old farm.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
A CUNNING PLOT
George White was a skillful penman – at one time he had been a bookkeeper – and he had no difficulty in drafting a will which might easily have passed for the genuine last will and testament of Simon Dodge.
It was shown to Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, and both were well satisfied with it.
“I guess this will make you all right, Jeremiah,” said White. “It’ll be worth a good deal of money to you.”
“You’re a master hand at the pen, George,” said Brackett, admiringly. “Nobody will know this from the old man’s signature. I’ll take care of it till the time comes when it’s wanted.”
He held out his hand for the document, but George White drew back, smiling significantly.
“Not so fast, brother-in-law,” he said. “You shall have this when I receive the hundred dollars. That was the bargain, you remember.”
“You don’t expect I’ve got a hundred dollars in cash, do you?” asked Brackett, disturbed.
“Then why did you agree to pay me that sum when I had done my work?” demanded White.
“I didn’t think you’d insist on it. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a hundred and fifty when the money comes in to me.”
“I am to have a thousand dollars then.”
“Of course; and this will make eleven hundred and fifty. Come, that’s a fair offer.”
“It may be, in your eyes, brother-in-law, but it isn’t in mine. I tell you I must have the money now.”
“Where do you think I can raise so much money?” asked Brackett, who underrated White’s penetration, or he would never have hoped to deceive him.
“Plenty of ways,” replied White, coolly.
“Your credit ought to be good for a loan of that amount, when you own a ten-thousand-dollar farm.”
“There isn’t anybody in town who has money to lend.”
“Must be a peculiar place, then. Is there a mortgage on the farm?”
“No.”
“Mortgage it, then, for a thousand dollars, pay me a hundred, and invest the rest.”
“I don’t believe Lucindy would agree to that.”
“I see that I shall have to tear the will up.”
“No, no; don’t do that,” said Brackett, hurriedly, extending his hand in alarm.
“I’ll wait till to-morrow, then, and you can think over the matter. Talk with Lucinda, if you like. If she’s wise, she’ll agree to my demands.”
Later in the day, George White found himself alone in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Brackett had gone to the village, taking the children with them.
“I think I’ll make a voyage of discovery,” said White. “I’ll see if Lucinda hasn’t got some money stowed away somewhere. It’s a great wonder if she hasn’t, for she’s of a very mean and saving disposition, and, judging from the table she keeps, she doesn’t spend all her income in pampering the appetites of her household.”
He went upstairs stealthily, and opened the door of his sister’s chamber. It was furnished like most bedrooms. Between the two windows stood the bureau, and to this George White instinctively made his way.
“Women always keep their valuables in their bureaus,” said White.
And his experience as a burglar qualified him to express an opinion on this subject.
Generally Mrs. Brackett kept the drawers of her bureau locked, but to-day, by some oversight, she had left a key in one of the locks.
This easily enabled White to search them.
In a corner of the upper drawer his quick eye lighted on a savings-bank book, and he opened it eagerly.
“Five hundred dollars!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “So it seems my poverty-stricken brother-in-law is not so poor, after all. He won’t need to mortgage his farm to pay me my price. He and Lucinda were very cunning in keeping from me the knowledge of their savings, but it won’t work – no, it won’t work! He must draw the money out of the bank for me to-morrow, or I destroy the will.”
Just then a new thought occurred to White. Why couldn’t he take the book, forge an order, and draw out the whole sum from the savings bank himself? It tempted him, but prudence restrained him. It would be decidedly dangerous.
His sister and her husband were doubtless known in the next village, where the bank was located, and a stranger attempting to draw out money on their account would doubtless be subjected to suspicion, and probably be unable to accomplish his object.
“No, it won’t do,” White decided. “But I’ll suggest to Brackett where he can find the money to pay me.”
George White left his sister’s room, and a sudden impulse led him to continue his investigations.
It has already been said that he had been struck by Andy’s resemblance to some face he had seen before. It occurred to him after a while that the boy he resembled was the one who had baffled him in his attempt at robbery, on the highway, between Hamilton and Cranston.
But these towns were three hundred miles away, and it seemed far from likely that his brother-in-law’s hired boy had been in that distant locality so recently. Moreover, Andy had not appeared to recognize him – though, as we know, he had done so.
White had asked him questions, nevertheless, designed to draw out information on this point, but Andy had skillfully evaded them, without exciting his suspicions.
Still, White was desirous of learning something more about Andy, and it was with this object in view that he went up the attic stairs and entered the little room occupied by our hero.
Andy had no trunk, but there was an old dressing table in the room, containing a shallow drawer.
White opened this drawer, and curiously scanned the contents.
Andy had incautiously left in the drawer a letter received from his mother, addressed to the care of his friend George Tierney, and it was of course postmarked Hamilton.
“Hamilton!” exclaimed White, in astonishment. “Henry receives letters from Hamilton! Why, that is the place where the boy lived who balked me, and had poor Mike Hogan arrested. It’s the same boy, I’ll bet fifty dollars! I saw the resemblance at once.”
White opened the letter and read it through, and when he had finished, the whole secret was revealed to him.
He discovered that Andy was masquerading under an assumed name, that he was one of Simon Dodge’s Eastern relatives, who, doubtless, were in opposition to the interests of his sister and her husband.
“Well, here’s a conspiracy!” ejaculated White. “My sister has been cherishing a viper in her household, who is scheming to get possession of the old man’s property. Was there ever anything more vile and treacherous?”
And the professional burglar became virtuously indignant.
Then an expression of triumph lighted up his face.
“I’ve found you out, my boy, and I’ll put a spoke in your wheel,” he said to himself. “I’ve got a little score of my own to settle with you, my young friend, and don’t you forget it. Henry Miller, alias Andy Gordon, you’ll find that you are no match for George White. Now, how shall I revenge myself on him?”
A bright idea occurred to White.
He went back to his sister’s bedroom, took the savings-bank book, and carrying it up to the little attic chamber, put it in Andy’s drawer, but away back in one corner, where the boy himself would not be likely to see it.
“There’ll be lively times soon, I reckon,” he said to himself, complacently.
CHAPTER XL.
THE BRACKETTS ARE CHECKMATED
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett got home about four o’clock. They had been talking over the proposal to pay White a hundred dollars cash, but had not been able to make up their minds to do it.
In fact, paying out ready money seemed as bad to Mrs. Brackett – whose mean, parsimonious disposition has already been referred to – as having a tooth drawn.
Indeed, I may say, confidentially, that she would have preferred to lose half a dozen teeth rather than part with a hundred dollars.
“We’ll put George off,” she said to her husband, as they were riding home. “We’ll pretend that we are trying to raise the money, but can’t do it. Perhaps he will get impatient and agree to take less. A hundred dollars is an outrageous price for such a small job.”
“So I think, Lucindy,” chimed in her husband. “Really your brother seems to me very grasping.”
“So he is, and very extravagant besides. He could squander more money in a week than we could lay by in six months.”
Of course they would not have dared to discuss the subject in presence of the children; but they had been left behind, with the exception of the youngest, two years of age, to spend the afternoon with some juvenile companions.
“It’s lucky George doesn’t know about our account in the savings bank, Lucindy.”
“If he knew of that, it would be impossible to get rid of paying the money.”
“Suppose he won’t give up the will without the whole amount down?”
“He will. It will do him no good, and if he keeps it or destroys it he won’t get a cent. I know he needs money, for he told me the other day that he was reduced to his last five dollars. If we remain firm, he’ll come to our terms.”
Mrs. Brackett spoke confidently, and felt so, but it was not long before she found occasion to reverse her opinion of her brother.
They found him smoking a pipe on the lawn, or grass plat, near the back door.
“Had a pleasant ride?” he asked, lazily.
“Yes, George,” said his sister. “What have you been doing?”
“Oh, killing time!” he answered, indifferently. “I have been thinking, Lucinda, that I should have to leave you very soon.”
“You mustn’t hurry,” said Mrs. Brackett; but she felt glad to hear that her brother was likely to leave her soon.
She did not relish having a free boarder, even if he were her own brother, and, besides, judged that they could drive a better bargain with him in that case.
“Oh, I didn’t expect to stay here very long,” said White. “But I can’t go without that hundred dollars.”
“Really, George, you can’t be aware how hard it is to raise money,” said his brother-in-law.
“Oh, yes, I can!” said George, smiling. “I find it deuced uphill work myself,” and he glanced knowingly at Mr. Brackett.
“I mean that I find it hard to raise it for you. You see, a hundred dollars is a large sum. If you’d be willing now to take twenty-five and the balance in installments – or, better still, when we come into our money – I think I could arrange it.”
“My dear brother-in-law,” said White, with a smile, “you do it well – very well, indeed. If I hadn’t been round the world a little, I dare say I should be taken in, and accept your statement for gospel.”
“I hope you don’t think my husband would deceive you, George,” said his sister, with dignity.
“Oh, of course not! Still, I find it is the general custom to look out for number one.”
“You always looked out for number one, George,” said his sister, bluntly.
“Yes I flatter myself I did; but to return to business. You seem to be at a loss to know where you can raise the hundred dollars, to which I am entitled for my services.”
“You are right there.”
“Then I will tell you where you can find it.”
“I wish you would,” said Brackett, by no means prepared for the reply that awaited him.
“It was simple enough, Jeremiah. Draw it out of the savings bank. You will have four hundred dollars left.”
CHAPTER XLI.
ANDY’S SECRET IS DISCOVERED
Mr. Brackett stared at his brother-in-law in ludicrous dismay, while his wife fairly gasped for breath.
Here was a revelation, indeed. Their important secret had been discovered, and neither knew what to say.
Mrs. Brackett was the first to recover her wits.
“Who told you we had any money in the savings bank, George?” she demanded.
“Nobody.”
“He only guessed it. He doesn’t know,” she thought. “I can deceive him yet.”
“I wish we had money in the bank,” she said; “but farming is a poor business. It doesn’t pay, and all that Jeremiah and I have been able to do has been to make both ends meet.”
“Lucinda, I admire your ready invention – or, shall I say, your ready forgetfulness of facts?” said her brother, with a provoking smile; “but you ought not to try it on me. You must remember that I have been around the world a little; I have a slight knowledge of men, and women, too. You have five hundred dollars in the savings bank, and you know it; and, what’s more, I know it.”
“Who told you?” demanded his sister, desperately.
A smile passed over her brother’s features, as he fixed his eyes on his sister’s agitated countenance, and answered, simply:
“I have seen the book.”
“Have you dared to go to my bureau drawer?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, angrily.
“There it comes out!” said White, laughing. “No, I have not been to your bureau drawer.”
“Then, how could you see my bank book?”
“Then it seems you have one, Lucinda. So I thought.”
“I have a small account in the bank, I admit,” said Mrs. Brackett. “But it’s only a few dollars.”
“Didn’t I tell you I had seen the book? Why do you try to deceive me?”
“Then you have been to my bureau.”
“It isn’t in your bureau.”
“Then where is it? Have you got it with you?”
“No,” assured White, unblushingly. “But I know where it is.”
“Where is it?” asked his sister, nervously.
“I must tell you the story, and then you will understand how I came to find out about your deposit. That boy of yours, Henry Miller, I distrusted as soon as I saw him. I couldn’t place him, but I was convinced I had seen him somewhere, and that his character was bad.”
“Just what I always thought!” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett, profoundly gratified at hearing something to Andy’s discredit.
“Your instinct was quite correct, my esteemed sister. Well, this afternoon, being left alone in the house, I thought I would search Henry’s room, being influenced chiefly by missing a small amount of money a day or two since.”
“Did you find it in the boy’s room?” asked Lucinda, eagerly.
“No; he was too shrewd to leave money around. The young rascal has a long head, and, I must admit, is unusually smart. I didn’t find any money, but on opening the drawer of his dressing table, tucked away in a corner, I saw a savings-bank book. I thought it was his, but on examining it I discovered your name. Of course I opened it, and that is the way I found how much money you had.”
“But what could the boy want with the book?” asked Brackett.
“He intended to forge an order and draw some of the money as soon as he went to Jefferson.”
“He was to go there to-morrow with father,” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett.
“Just so! He’s in with the old man, and no wonder. Do you know who he is?”
“I don’t know anything beyond his name,” said Brackett.
“You don’t know that!” said White, triumphantly. “His name is not Henry Miller at all.”
“What is it, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett, eagerly.
“Prepare to be astonished. You have been harboring a traitor in your house. His name is Andy Gordon, and his mother is the niece of your father-in-law!”
Mr. and Mrs. Brackett stared at each other in consternation.