CHAPTER XXI.
MR. CAMPBELL RECEIVES TIDINGS OF HIS WARD
"It is strange we can't find Florence," said Orton Campbell to his father one morning some months after the young lady's departure. "Is there no clue?"
"The detective I have employed has failed to trace her."
"Has he no theory?"
"He suggests that she may have gone to Europe," said Mr. Campbell, "but I am not of that opinion."
"What do you think, then?"
"I suspect she has buried herself in some obscure country place under some assumed name, there to remain till she has attained her twenty-fifth year, when my guardianship ceases."
"When will that be?"
"Six months hence."
"It is very important, then, that we should find her before that time," said Orton Campbell, thoughtfully.
"That is true. After the time referred to my power ceases, and I shall be unable to assist you in your plans."
"Her fortune amounts to one hundred and fifty thousand dollars, does it not?"
"More than that. The interest has been accumulating till it amounts to nearer one hundred and seventy thousand dollars."
Orton Campbell's eyes sparkled with covetous greed.
"That is a stake worth playing for," he said. "With what I have of my own, it would make me independently rich."
"Just so, Orton," said his father.
"And nothing stands in the way but the caprice of a foolish girl! I declare, father, it is too exasperating. Suppose we try another detective? Your man can't be very sharp."
"I have no objection, Orton," said the merchant, "but as he would be employed in your interest, it is only fair that you should pay the expense incurred."
"I don't see that," said the son. "She is your ward, you know. It ought to come out of her property."
"The item may not be allowed. In that case I should be responsible," said John Campbell, cautiously.
"I'll tell you what I will do, father: if she is found and I marry her, I'll freely pay the whole expense."
"Suppose we find her, and she won't marry you: what then?" asked his father, keenly.
The son looked nonplussed, but finally consented in that case to defray the expense out of his private means—that is, if it could not be taken out of the young lady's fortune.
The matter having been satisfactorily adjusted, they were discussing the choice of a detective when a clerk came to the door of the private counting-room in which father and son were seated and said, "There's a man outside wants to speak to you, Mr. Campbell."
"Who is he, Saunders?"
"I think it's Jones, who used to be in your employ as light porter."
"How does he look? Well-to-do?"
"He is decidedly shabby," answered Saunders.
"Come to ask help, probably," muttered the merchant. "I think I won't see him."
Saunders left the office, but presently returned.
"Well, has he gone?" asked the merchant.
"No; he says he wants to see you on business of importance."
"Of importance to himself, probably.—Shall I see him, Orton?"
"Yes, father. If he is humbugging us, we can send him off."
So permission was given, and almost immediately Saunders ushered into the room a short, broad-shouldered fellow, who looked very much like a professional tramp.
"Good-morning, Mr. Campbell," said he, deferentially.
"Humph, Jones, is it you? You don't look as if you had prospered."
"No more I have, sir."
"Don't come near me. Really, your appearance is very disreputable."
"I can't help that, sir. I've just come from California in the steerage, and you can't keep very neat there."
"I believe you went to California to make your fortune, didn't you, Jones?" said Orton Campbell, with a cynical smile.
"Yes, Mr. Orton, I did."
"And you didn't make it, I infer from your appearance."
"I haven't got much money about me now," said Jones, with a shrug and a smile.
"You would have done better not to have left my employment, Jones," said the merchant. "You wanted higher pay, I believe, and as I wouldn't give it, you decided that you could better yourself at the mines."
"That is about so, sir."
"Well, and what luck did you have?"
"Good luck at first, sir. I made a thousand dollars at the mines in a few months."
"Indeed!" said Orton, in surprise.
"I came with it to San Francisco, and gambled it away in one night. Then I was on my beam-ends, as the sailors say."
"Did you go back?"
"No. I went to work in the city, and managed to get enough money to buy a steerage passage, and here I am."
"I suppose you have come to ask me to take you back into my employ? That, I take it, is your business with me."
"No, sir—not exactly."
"Then, what is it?" asked the merchant, looking a little puzzled. It crossed his mind that Jones might so far have forgotten his rule never to give away money for any purpose as to suppose there was a chance to effect a loan.
"I thought you and Mr. Orton might be willing to pay my expenses back to San Francisco," said Jones, coolly.
"Are you out of your head, Jones?" demanded Orton Campbell, amazed at the man's effrontery.
"Not at all."
"If this is meant as a joke, Jones," said the merchant in a dignified tone, "it is a very poor—and, I may add, a very impudent—one. What possible claim have you on us, that you should expect such a favor?"
"Have you heard anything of your ward, Mr. Campbell?" asked Jones, not in the least abashed.
"No. What has my ward to do with your concerns?"
"I have seen her," answered Jones, briefly.
"Where?" asked John Campbell and his son simultaneously.
"That information belongs to me," said Jones, quietly. "A detective doesn't work without pay."
The two Campbells now began to see the point. This man had information to sell, and would not give it up without what he considered suitable compensation. They determined to drive the best possible bargain with him. He was poor, and probably could be bought over for a small sum.
"Your information is worth something, Jones," said the merchant, guardedly. "I will go so far as to give you twenty-five dollars cash for it."
"That won't do," said Jones, shaking his head.
"Your information may be worth nothing," said Orton. "You may have seen her, but that doesn't show where she is now."
"I know where she is now," said Jones.
"Is she in California?"
"I don't mind telling you as much as that, Mr. Orton."
"Then we can find her without your assistance."
"I don't think you can. At any rate, it will take time, especially as, if you don't make a bargain with me, I shall write her that you are on her track."
Father and son looked at each other.
It was evident that Jones was no fool, and they would be obliged to submit to his terms or give up the search, which was not to be thought of.
"What do you propose, Jones?" asked Mr. Campbell, a little less haughtily.
"That you pay my expenses back to California and one thousand dollars," said Jones, promptly. "If you or Mr. Orton will go with me, I will show you where she lives, and then you can take your own course."
This was finally agreed to, and Orton Campbell and the ex-porter sailed by the next steamer for San Francisco, where Florence Douglas, still boarding with Mrs. Armstrong, was waiting impatiently for news of Richard Dewey.
CHAPTER XXII.
A MORNING CALL
Florence Douglas had now been an inmate of Mrs. Armstrong's household for some months. She avoided making acquaintances, and therefore was often lonely. But she was buoyed up by the thought that Richard Dewey was somewhere in the State, and that the two messengers whom she had sent out would eventually find him. She felt great confidence in Ben, and also in Bradley, who had impressed her as an honest, straightforward man, though illiterate and not at all times superior to temptation.
Her hope had been sustained by a letter received from Ben at the time he and Bradley were on the point of starting for the Sierras, where they had information that Dewey was engaged in mining. Then weeks passed, and she heard nothing. She began to feel anxious for the safety of her two agents, knowing that not alone wild beasts, but lawless men, were to be encountered among the mountains. Should Ben and his companion come to harm, she would be sincerely sorry for their fate, feeling in a measure responsible for it. Still more, Richard Dewey would then be left ignorant of her presence in California, and might return to the East in that ignorance, leaving her friendless and alone more than three thousand miles from her old home.
How would her heart have been cheered could she have known that at that moment Richard Dewey, with his two faithful friends, was but four days' journey from the city! So it happens that good fortune is often nearer to us than we imagine, even when our hearts are most anxious.
While she was trying to look on the bright side one morning, Mrs. Armstrong entered her room. "Miss Douglas," she said, "there is a gentleman in the parlor who wishes to see you."
Her heart gave a great bound. Who could it be but Richard Dewey who would call upon her?
"Did he give his name?" she asked, in agitation.
"No; he said you would know him."
"It must be Richard," she said to herself; and, controlling her agitation as well as she could, she descended to the parlor. She paused a moment before opening the door to regain her self-possession. Then, with an effort, she turned the knob, and entering the room, found herself face to face with Orton Campbell!
It was so unexpected and so bitter a disappointment that an expression of blank dismay overspread her face, and she sank into the nearest chair without venturing on a single word of greeting.
"You didn't expect to see me, Miss Douglas?" said Orton, enjoying the effect of his appearance, for he had never deceived himself with the thought that his father's ward would be glad to see him.
By this time Florence had regained her self-possession, and with it came back scorn for the man whose object in pursuing her she well understood to be love of her fortune, not of herself.
"You are entirely right, Mr. Campbell," she answered. "You are the last person I expected to see."
"You don't appear very glad to see me," he continued.
"Why should I appear so? You know very well that I am not glad to see you," said the heiress, frankly.
"That is complimentary," said Orton, rather provoked, though he knew very well in advance that such was her feeling.
"I suppose you didn't come here for compliments, Mr. Campbell?" said Florence, coldly.
"You are right: I didn't."
"May I ask if you are in San Francisco on business?"
"You take things very coolly, I must say, Miss Douglas. Certainly you cannot be ignorant of my motive in coming here at great personal inconvenience."
"I hope I have nothing to do with your reason."
"You are the sole reason."
"I am sorry to hear it."
"I came to remonstrate with you on the very unwise step you took in running away from your legal guardian."
"My legal guardian, as you call him, though I look upon him as such only as far as my property is concerned, rendered the step necessary."
"I don't see how."
"In plain terms, Mr. Orton Campbell, I believe that you and your father entered into a conspiracy to keep my fortune in the family by inducing me to become your wife."
"I certainly did ask you to become my wife, but it was not because of your fortune," answered the young man.
Florence's lip curled. She thoroughly disbelieved his statement. Though she said nothing, it was clear to him from her expression that she put no confidence in his words.
"You may believe me or not," he said, doggedly; "but why should you think so poorly of yourself as to suppose you have nothing to attract lovers except your money?"
"I may not be so modest as you suppose, Mr. Campbell. I do believe that I have won the love of a true and noble man. My doubt only related to yourself."
"You mean Richard Dewey, I suppose?" said Orton Campbell, with a sneer.
"I do mean Richard Dewey," answered Florence, with composure.
"By the way, he came to California, I believe."
"Yes."
"And you came here in pursuit of him?" he added, with a sneer.
"I came here to find him, knowing that in him I had a true friend, while your father's persecution and your own made me feel the need of one."
"Have you found him? Do you know where he is?" asked Orton Campbell, eagerly.
"I only know he is somewhere at the mines. I have taken steps to find him, and hope eventually to succeed."
"Why don't you advertise?" asked the young man, with an angry sneer.
"Would you advise it?" asked Miss Douglas, coolly.
"No," muttered Orton, for he feared such a step might prove successful. "What steps have you taken?" he asked.
"I prefer to keep them to myself."
"Miss Douglas," said Orton Campbell, after a pause, "all this is very foolish and humiliating. There is only one proper course for you to pursue."
"What is it?"
"Return to New York with me in the next steamer, and place yourself once more under the care of my father, whose protection you never ought to have left."
"'Protection'!" repeated Florence, with bitter emphasis. "What protection did he give me?"
"All that was required."
"'All that was required'? You know very well that you and he had conspired to put me in a mad-house if I would not agree to enrich you by giving you my hand."
"That is not true," said Orton Campbell, rather confused.
"'Not true'? He distinctly threatened to do it as a means of terrifying me into compliance with his and your wishes. It was not until then that I decided to leave your house and seek some place of refuge until time and the law should set me completely free from your family and their machinations."
"It is evident, Miss Douglas, that you are under a delusion. Your way of talking is sufficient to show that your mind is affected. Any good physician would need no other proof."
Florence Douglas looked at him with distrust. Was this a threat, or how should she interpret it?
"It is convenient, Mr. Orton Campbell," she retorted with spirit, "to charge with madness those who oppose us. At home I felt afraid of your threats: here I am secure."
He thought that perhaps he had gone too far, since the young lady was independent of him, and it was not certain that he could gain possession of her.
"Miss Douglas," he said, "I have already told you that you have taken an unwise step. There is one way to remedy it, and I hope I may be able to induce you to take it. Let me assure you that I have called upon you as a friend, as a warm friend, as one who seeks to be something more than a friend."
"Well, sir?"
"Let me urge you to consent to an immediate marriage with me, and to accompany me home on the next steamer. My father will receive you as a daughter, and never allude to your flight."
"I suppose I ought to thank you for your disinterested proposal, Mr. Campbell, but I can only tell you that you ask what is entirely out of the question. This is final. Allow me to wish you good-morning."
"But, Miss Douglas—"
She did not turn back nor heed these last words, and Orton Campbell found himself alone.
He rose slowly from his seat, and an evil look came into his eyes. "She has not done with me yet," he muttered as he left the house.
CHAPTER XXIII.
A SECRET CONFERENCE
The affairs of Florence Douglas are so interwoven with the fortunes of my young hero that I find myself obliged to devote a part of my space to their record. I confess that I have no pleasure in detailing the schemes of Orton Campbell, who seems to me a very disagreeable character, but it seems necessary.
After leaving the presence of Miss Douglas he took a walk, to consider the situation and decide what it was most expedient to do. He was spending considerable time and money in the effort to recover his father's ward, and he did not like to fail. Yet it was not easy to decide upon any plan which would bring success. It was not a matter in which he could invoke the assistance of the law. The young lady's manner convinced him that she would not of her own free will consent to accompany him back. What, then, was to be done?
On the principle that two heads are better than one, he resolved to take his companion, Jones, into his confidence and ask him to make a suggestion.
"How did you find the young lady, Mr. Orton?" asked his follower on his return to the hotel.
"Very offish, Jones."
"Then she wasn't glad to see you?" said Jones, with a grin.
"By no means. She hardly treated me with civility."
"That's because of the other man," said Jones, sagaciously.
"You are right. Mr. Dewey, as I learned, is in California."
"Then maybe they have an understanding together."
"No; she doesn't know where he is."
Jones was puzzled, and showed it in a way common to men of his class. He scratched his head and looked perplexed.
"Then, what good is it for her to stay here?" he asked, after a pause.
"She is taking steps to find this Dewey, who is somewhere at the mines, though she would not tell me what they were. He may turn up any time, and then good-bye to all my hopes."
"You want to marry her yourself, Mr. Orton?"
"Of course. Otherwise I wouldn't have come so far in search of her."
"The young lady is very rich, isn't she?" asked Jones, shrewdly.
"She has a moderate fortune," replied Orton, guardedly; "but that doesn't influence me."
"Of course not," said Jones; but there was something in his tone which made Campbell eye him sharply.
"I am no fortune-hunter," said he, stiffly.
"You'd want to marry her just the same if she hadn't a cent?"
"Of course I would," snapped Orton.
"Now, that's what I call real love," said Jones. "To be sure, you're rich yourself, and needn't mind."
"Precisely so. I may not be rich, but I can support a wife."
"As the young lady prefers some one else, I suppose we may as well go home?"
"That's what I want to talk to you about, Jones. Very likely this Dewey is dead; at any rate, he's a mere fortune-hunter. Now, although Florence doesn't care to marry me now, if our marriage could be brought about she would no doubt be reconciled to it after a while. Now, Jones, have you anything to suggest?"
Orton Campbell threw himself back in his chair and eyed Jones. He had formed a plan, but, if possible, he wanted the proposal to come from Jones.
Jones was not over-scrupulous; he had never been so, and the months he had spent in the mines in the company of adventurers of all kinds had not improved him. Even law-abiding citizens often lost their regard for law in California, and Jones had fewer scruples to overcome than most.
He suggested a plan which met with the approval of his employer, and promised his co-operation on the understanding that if successful Campbell should properly reward him.
It may be added that of the thousand dollars which he was to receive for his information he had actually received but three hundred, Orton Campbell having on various pretexts put off paying him. He received the assurance that this also should be paid him without further delay as soon as the plan referred to was successfully carried out.
CHAPTER XXIV.
MISS DOUGLAS RECEIVES A MESSAGE
Florence Douglas felt somewhat uneasy after the visit of Orton Campbell. Though he had no legal right to interfere with her, even as the representative of his father, she knew the unscrupulous character of the man, and that he would not have spent time and money in a visit to California unless he had a strong hope of carrying her back with him. Her chief fear was that he would carry out his father's threat and try to have her pronounced of unsound mind, in which case he could have her confined in an asylum.
"If I could only hear from Richard Dewey!" she fervently ejaculated. "If he were here I would have nothing to fear."
Two days passed, and, considerably to her relief, she heard nothing from Campbell. She began to hope that he had given up his purpose and made arrangements to return to the East. She was determined to refuse him an audience if he should call upon her again, either with or without companions. That she might feel more secure, she took her landlady, Mrs. Armstrong, into her confidence.
This lady had become much attached to her guest, and listened with great indignation to the account which Florence gave her. "My dear Miss Douglas," she said, "if that man Campbell calls, leave me to deal with him."
"How would you propose to do it?" asked Florence, smiling.
"I would give him a piece of my mind, you may depend upon that."
"He would be rude to you."
"In that case I would order him out of the house," said Mrs. Armstrong, resolutely. "The man needs a lesson, and I should like to be the one to give it to him."
"I shall be very glad to have you meet him in my place," said the young lady. "An interview with him is something which I would gladly avoid."
"That you shall! I only hope he'll come soon. He'll find one woman that isn't afraid of him."
"I am not afraid of him, Mrs. Armstrong, but I own that I am apprehensive of what he may do. It would not surprise me at all if he should make his appearance with some needy physician who for a fee will be ready to pronounce me insane."
"Don't be alarmed, Miss Florence. I'll send the doctor packing, as well as his employer. Perhaps he will pronounce me insane. If he does, he is welcome to. I think he would find me an unsatisfactory patient."
"I think so too," said Florence, smiling, as she scanned the firm, determined face and the tall and muscular form of her hostess, who certainly would never be classed as a weak or timid woman.
On the afternoon of the third day a knock was heard at the door, for as yet it was unprovided with a bell.
Mrs. Armstrong and Florence were sitting together.
The two glanced at each other, and the same thought came to each.
"It may be Orton Campbell," said Florence, who was the first to speak.
"Then let me go to the door. Stay where you are, Miss Douglas; I will receive the gentleman."
But when the landlady opened the door she saw a man who looked like a coachman. A covered carriage was at the gate, which he had evidently driven.
"Well, sir, what can I do for you?" demanded the landlady, sharply.
"Is there a young lady living with you named Florence Douglas?" asked the man.
"Miss Florence Douglas boards here," answered Mrs. Armstrong.
"I've got a message for her, ma'am."
"If it's from Mr. Orton Campbell, you can go back and tell him that she won't receive any messages from him," said the landlady, resolutely.
"I don't know who you mean, ma'am," replied the man, in apparent surprise. "I don't know any such gentleman."
"Then who sent you?" inquired the landlady, whose turn it was to be surprised.
"It's a man just come from the mines," said the driver—"a Mr. Dewey."
Florence had drawn near to the head of the stairs in her interest to hear who had called, and she caught the name of her lover. She came flying down stairs, and demanded breathlessly, "What about Richard Dewey? I am Miss Douglas, and your message is for me."
Jones, for it was he, touched his hat respectfully, and held out a note penned on rough paper and written in pencil.
"This will explain everything, miss," he said.
Florence took the paper, and with some difficulty read it. It ran thus:
"Dear Florence: I have struggled to reach you, but have been struck down by fever when I was nearly at the end of my journey. I have had bad luck at the mines, and was almost discouraged, when I learned that you were in San Francisco. Poor as I was, I determined to come to you, even at the risk of your misjudging me. I am not able to write much, and must defer particulars till I see you. I am staying at the house of a kind stranger a few miles from the city. The man whom I send with this note is trustworthy. If you will trust yourself to his guidance, he will bring you to me. I know that I am asking a great deal of you, but I think you will not fail me.
"Yours, with love,"Richard Dewey."
The writing was hurried—indeed, it was hardly more than a scrawl.
"He must be very weak," thought Florence, her heart swelling with painful emotions.—"My good friend," she said to the landlady, "Richard is sick and poor. He asks me to come to him. I must go."
"But can you trust that man? Is the letter genuine?" asked Mrs. Armstrong, suspiciously.
"I am sure it is genuine. It is written as Richard would write."
"But don't be in haste, Miss Douglas—Florence. Make some inquiries, and find out whether this news can be depended upon."
"Would you have me hesitate when Richard needs me?" asked Florence, reproachfully. "No, Mrs. Armstrong, I must go, and at once. I have waited so long to see him!"
"He will be very glad to see you, miss," said Jones respectfully. "He has been talking about you constant."
"Were Ben and Mr. Bradley with him? Why didn't one of them come?"
"Because, miss," said Jones with ready invention, though he had never heard of either of the persons mentioned, "one went for the doctor, and the other stayed to take care of him."
This seemed very plausible. Without a particle of suspicion Florence Douglas hastily dressed herself and entered the carriage in waiting.