The Cleverdale Mystery: or, The Machine and Its Wheels: A Story of American Life

"Give me time to think, sir," he replied to Senator Hamblin, when the latter asked for his decision. "Before you drive me from home and friends, make a more thorough examination, for I am confident you will be convinced of my innocence."

"No, that cannot be. This was discovered immediately after your heroic adventure. I was astonished and could not believe you guilty. I have investigated thoroughly, and after due deliberation am convinced in my own mind concerning this matter."

"But Sargent – what does he say?"

"He pleaded for you, as never before man did for another. When it looked as if you must die, I decided to make good the amount and let your grave cover the crime. I am entrusted with the funds of this institution. If you remain in the village I must give a reason for your discharge – if you go away your absence must be attributed to mystery; I shall never follow you. If you can ever repay me the amount I advance, all right; if you cannot, I shall feel that I have protected you as well as the honor of a member of my own household."

Eloquence can make deceit appear as the purest of truths. This gift accounted in part for Senator Hamblin's great power, for he was a natural actor. His persuasive manner and strong language had a perceptible effect upon George Alden, who gave evident signs of weakness of mind and body. Long months of confinement left him powerless to cope with a strong mind, and gradually his will succumbed to that of his persecutor.

He could write to Belle and Fannie, he reasoned, and be advised by them. Yes, he would save himself and friends the disgrace that must inevitably follow the charge he knew to be false, yet was unable to disprove. It would be a terrible ordeal, but he thought it would be only temporary and his vindication must surely follow. As for Belle, who never could doubt his honesty, he could keep her informed of his whereabouts, awaiting her summons to return.

"What is your decision, George? I must know at once," asked the president.

"Give me one day to decide."

"No, you must make your choice at once – the directors will meet this evening, and if you remain here I must tell them of the defalcation, and then I shall be powerless to aid you. I wish it were otherwise, but it is not."

"Well, sir, to shield those I love I accept your offer. I hope I have not made a wrong decision, but my vindication is sure to follow."

Senator Hamblin opened a private drawer, and taking from it five hundred dollars, said:

"Here, George, is money – no, do not push it back – you will require it – you need not take it as a gift, it is only lent you."

At first Alden refused the loan, but the president, pretending to be affected almost to tears, at last succeeded in forcing the money upon him.

The interview ended, Alden left the building and wended his footsteps homeward. Alone in the privacy of his chamber he gave way to his feelings, after which he began making preparations for leaving Cleverdale. Taking up a picture of his wife that lay upon the table before him, he covered it with kisses, and said:

"I am her evil genius, and thus far have only caused her unhappiness. But she shall know all; yes, every word that passed between her father and me shall be written her."

For two hours he sat beside the table, writing. He wrote of the terrible charges against him, and placed on paper every word that passed between the bank president and himself. He asserted his innocence; told of his love, and begged his wife to do everything in her power to clear up the mystery. He read and reread his letter, and added more, telling her of his assumed name and destination. He then wrote another letter, containing substantially the same matter, which he directed to his sister.

Not one word concerning his marriage, or his legal relationship to Belle, appeared in either letter. He was too much absorbed in his situation to think of anything but his flight and the causes that led to it.

At nine o'clock George Alden, bidding farewell to his home, went directly to the post office, mailed his letters, and then turned toward the depot. Meeting many friends, to their inquiries whither he was bound he replied, he was "going for his sister." It was a falsehood, and his conscience troubled him for it.

As the train steamed out of the depot his heart was too full of sadness to speak to any one. Although an innocent man, his sorrows must affect the two noble women whom he believed he was serving by leaving home.

God pity the three! Business reverses may drive a man from home and friends, death may inflict anguish hard to be endured, calumny may cast dark shadows over noble lives, but ambition alone can inflict unmerited misery on honorable natures; and worse than the ambition that causes war – worse because meaner – is the feeling that political necessities engender and stimulate in a man until he can coolly perform deeds more fiendish than Holy Writ anywhere ascribes to Satan. In proof whereof it is only necessary to quote a word or two of Senator Hamblin's soliloquy after Alden left the bank.

"I am the scoundrel. – Well, a man must be one to succeed in politics."

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE DISTRACTED WIFE

The next morning, as Senator Hamblin entered the bank, Sargent handed him two letters. Receiving them in silence, he went directly to his private office, closed and locked the door, and seating himself at the desk, seemed much troubled.

"I am playing a dangerous game, and wish I were well out of it. During the long, tedious night, sleep refused to relieve me of that dreadful look of agony and despair that yesterday overshadowed Alden's countenance. But can I do otherwise than try to prevent the crash that would ruin me and disgrace those dependent upon me? It is a desperate game, but I cannot retrace my steps. Let me look at these letters. Yes, here is one addressed to my daughter and another to the Alden girl. I cannot bear to open them, but must do so, for how else can I know his destination?"

For a moment he was silent, then quickly opening the letter addressed to Belle, and counting the sheets, he found there were six of them – just twenty-four pages in all. Reading, he was soon interested in the contents. Troubled thoughts running through his mind, he frequently passed his hand across his brow as if hiding the words from view. Before the letter was finished he was greatly agitated, and when all was read, his head bowed upon the desk, sigh after sigh escaped him.

"What have I done? The writer of this letter would have made my daughter a kind and true husband. I will recall him – I must, for I cannot go farther in this deception. Poor Belle! God pity her! I – her father – have basely conspired to destroy her happiness. God! what a villain I am!"

He arose and paced the floor in terrible agony of conscience.

"I have added crime to cruelty, and my hand is plotting against two true and noble hearts. I will at once recall Alden, for Belle's letter received last evening informs me of her return home to-morrow. What sorrow awaits her! I must – I will make amends for all."

Resuming his seat, he was about to open the letter addressed to Fannie Alden, when a rap at the door caused him to pause, and hastily slipping the two letters into a private drawer, he arose, and opening the door, to his surprise he found himself face to face with Walter Mannis.

"Ah, Senator, how do you do? Glad to see you. You look surprised. Didn't expect to see me to-day, eh?"

"No, I did not expect you, Mannis, but I am glad to see you. Walk in, and be seated."

Closing and locking the door, and resuming his chair, he said:

"Mannis, this is bad business. Yesterday I sent poor Alden away as if he were a common thief. To-day I am a changed man and must give up this business, for it is a damnable scheme."

"Pshaw! Senator, you are only doing your duty; beside it is too late to turn back now. Tut, tut, man, another day will calm your mind and all will be well."

"I suppose I am weak, but the scene I passed through yesterday has quite unmanned me; I will soon throw off this spell, realizing now that only the successful development of our scheme will save us. But I was a fool to ever begin it."

Mannis, with his keen eye, saw that the veteran politician was really moved. He was astonished; what politician would not have been? But he did not lose his wits; he said:

"The only thing necessary now is to prevent Alden's return. Of course you have intercepted his letters, for Sargent told me as I entered the bank that he handed you two this morning."

"Yes, I have them safe; but the counterfeiting and forging business must follow. When will bloodshed be added?"

The words were spoken in a desperate voice, so Mannis quickly replied:

"Come, Senator, put on your hat and let us walk over to my room at the hotel. You need fresh air and a glass of wine – then we will return here and look further into this matter."

The Senator at first refused the invitation, but persuasion finally made him yield, and the two men left the bank.

Returning an hour later, Senator Hamblin was in better spirits, the fresh air, together with several glasses of wine, having changed his whole demeanor. Despondency had given way to exuberance of spirits, and both men were soon seated side by side, smoking cigars. Then George Alden's letters were brought from their hiding-place and examined, Mannis remarking:

"Well, he is a gushing youth if nothing else."

It being decided an answer must be sent Alden, Mannis, taking paper and pen, wrote as follows:

"Cleverdale, 187–.

"Sir: On receipt of your letter I immediately returned to Cleverdale. When I thought you an honest man, I respected and loved you, but your crime has aroused me from this dream. Never dare address me again, for I abhor a villain.

 

Belle Hamblin.

"To George Alden."

"There, Senator, have Sargent copy this – imitating your daughter's handwriting – and mail it to the gusher. It will make him overflow with rhapsody – or profanity. Gracious! how I would like to see him when he runs his eyes over this billet-doux," and he ended his words with a long, low whistle.

The interview was but a short one, and the two men shook hands. Mannis, while leaving the private office and passing into the bank, whispered to Sargent:

"Come to my room at the hotel at noon, I wish to see you privately."

Promptly at noon Sargent entered the Cleverdale Hotel, and hastily going to Mannis's room rapped at the door. A voice within calling out, "Come in," the teller entered the apartment, and Mannis rose to meet him.

"Sargent, the old man is faint-hearted, and if something is not done to prevent, he will have Alden back here."

"Yes, I noticed he looked like a sick man when he came to the bank this morning. If he should repent, what would you and I do?"

"We must not give him a chance. Will you stand by me in this matter, Sargent? Remember, you are to be cashier."

"Stand by you? Yes, sir; I am with you and can take a hand in anything you suggest."

"Well, let's shake hands over that. Now let me whisper a few words in your ear."

For five minutes the two men whispered together; then Sargent said:

"By thunder! I never thought of that – but I am your man – that will check things certain."

"Not a lisp of this," said Mannis; "but Saturday evening, at eight o'clock, meet me near the hollow road, and be sure to bring along that suit."

In another moment Mannis was alone, and an hour later, behind a span of fleet horses, he was speeding over the road toward Havelock.

"The girl shall be mine," he said, "and the Senator's money will chip in nicely to keep me afloat. But if he only knew I wanted his cash, even more than his pretty daughter, he would shut down on me. Chicken-hearted as a child, I am afraid he will repent, and try to undo the little game. I always took him for a man of pluck; but we will arrange this business, though. My eyes! how he will shake in his boots when Sargent and I get through with our part of this affair – and won't all Cleverdale be excited? Whew! There'll be a first-class rumpus!"

The following day Mrs. Hamblin and Belle arrived at the Hamblin mansion; the husband and father was not there to receive them. Relieving themselves of wraps, etc., they took their supper.

Belle with great impatience momentarily expected the arrival of George Alden. Eight, half-past eight, nine o'clock came, still the young husband failed to appear.

"It is strange, mamma," said she. "I wrote him I would be here this evening. Can he be sick? I will send Jane to his house – possibly he is there."

Seating herself, she hastily wrote:

"Dear George:

"I am home. Come at once.

Belle."

Summoning Jane, instructions concerning the note were given; in twenty minutes the faithful nurse returned and exclaimed:

"The house is dark, and no person there."

"No one there!" said Belle, in a trembling voice. "It is singular enough. He came home three days since. Where is Papa? – he can tell us whether George has been at the bank. There must be something wrong."

"Be calm, my child," said her mother; "he will come soon – there is some good reason for his absence. Perhaps he is at the bank with your father."

"True; I never thought of that. It is getting late, and we had better send James to the bank and ascertain. I must know his whereabouts before I can sleep."

She immediately rang the bell, and Jane appeared.

"Tell James to go to the bank, and see if Papa is there. Also tell him to inquire if Mr. Alden is there. If Papa is alone, ask him if he will please come home at once."

Half an hour later, James returned with the information that Mr. Hamblin was alone at his office, and would be up soon. Belle was much agitated; her mother tried to quiet her, but without success. Shortly after, Senator Hamblin entered the house; Belle ran to meet him, but by his manner she was conscious that something terrible had happened. After embracing his wife and daughter, the latter asked:

"Papa, where – is – is – George?"

Slow to answer, his hesitation only added to her agitation, for she continued:

"Oh, speak! What has happened?"

"My daughter, he is unworthy of you, he has proven himself a villain."

"Proven himself a villain! why, what do you mean? Answer me!" Her face became deathly pale, and she tottered as if about to fall.

"He has – I cannot speak it, for I am affected as never before – but you must know the worst – George Alden has stolen five thousand dollars from the bank."

There was a wild shriek, and Belle fell sobbing into her mother's arms.

"It is – it is false! he never committed a crime." Rising quickly, with excited voice she asked: "And – and where is he?"

"Alas, my child, he has absconded. I befriended him, making good the amount, and the crime is known only to the teller and myself."

"Father," exclaimed Belle, "this awful crime is yours, not his; you have conspired to defame as pure a man as ever lived, – and you have killed his wife."

"His wife! My God, Belle, what do you mean?"

"I mean that I am the wedded wife of George Alden, whom an unnatural father conspired to ruin, branding him as a criminal and sending him away a fugitive. Oh, I see it all! Weak from his late illness, not able to cope with villains, and left by me at the mercy of his persecutors, he is ruined, and I am murdered by – oh, God! – my father!"

The sorrow-stricken wife sobbed with intense agony; her proud sire stood trembling like a whipped cur. Approaching his wife, he said:

"Why was I not made aware of this marriage? I would have saved him from flight, but now I am afraid it is too late. He – he – did not tell me of this."

"No, pledged not to reveal the marriage until my return, his fine sense of honor, together with his weak condition, made him keep the secret. But what is manliness, honor, or love to you? You drove him away!" replied Belle.

"I did not drive him away, the evidence of guilt caused his flight. I not only made good the defalcation, but gave him money for necessary expenses. He made a fatal mistake in not informing me of this marriage; but I promise to recall him. I will do it at once. You must bear up until his return."

"Then you will restore him to me, and when he returns you will proclaim his innocence?"

"Hope for the best, my child. You did wrong in keeping your marriage from me."

The family retired, but not to sleep. All the long night Belle lay upon her sleepless pillow, unable to drive the thought from her mind that her husband was suffering. In the bedchamber of her father there was no repose, for even a politician cannot always stifle conscience at will. The Senator ordered remorse to quit his presence, but as remorse was not in his pay, it refused to obey his mandate. The wretched man would willingly have welcomed financial destruction, if thereby he could have restored George Alden to his daughter. Solemnly pledging himself to make restitution for the wrong he had done, he resolved on the morrow to write to George Alden, bidding him return. But he reckoned without his host, for Mannis and Sargent had not yet been interviewed by their consciences.

When, next morning, Senator Hamblin entered the breakfast-room, his face showed plainly the struggle through which he had passed. Inquiring for his daughter, he was told by Mrs. Hamblin that she was sleeping soundly.

"Poor child, let her sleep. Would that she could enjoy an unbroken slumber until the return of her husband."

At nine o'clock he went to the bank and found Sargent alone.

"Have you mailed the forged letter to Alden?" he asked.

"Yes, sir; it left this morning."

"I am sorry, for I am convinced I have done a great wrong. I have been a fool – yes, worse than that, a villain – but I will recall him at once."

Sargent, conscious that his companion's mind had undergone a radical change, did not at first reply, but no other remark being made by the president, he finally said:

"Will it not be dangerous for him to return here? he might make it warm for us."

"I care not; although there would be no danger. There are reasons why I desire his immediate return. To-day is Friday – I will write to him at once, and he can be here by the middle of next week."

As he entered his private office and closed the door behind him, Sargent laughingly said to himself:

"Just as I expected – but we will nip this little game; for he has men, not a girl, to deal with now. We hold the trump cards and he will find himself euchred."

One hour later Senator Hamblin passed into the banking room, and handed Sargent a letter addressed, George Howard, Chicago, Ill., saying:

"Mail this at once. And do not be disappointed in this matter; if we can get Alden back again, I will make you a handsome present – I will remain here while you are absent."

Sargent, leaving the bank, slipped the letter into his pocket.

"Lucky he sent me! I will take care of this for the present."

CHAPTER XXV.
THE CRUEL LETTER

George Alden, with satchel in hand, stepped from a train just arrived from the East, at Chicago; his pale face, blood-shot eyes, and whole manner betokening a nervous condition. A stranger in a strange city, scarcely knowing which way to go, he felt almost like a guilty wretch fleeing from justice. The events of the past three days passing before his mind like a row of spectres, his haggard face told plainly of his anguish.

The sun was sinking beneath the western plains as the fugitive walked the streets of the strange city, not knowing whither to turn. He was faint from lack of nourishment, for he had not taken sufficient food to preserve his strength; while severe pains in his back recalled to his mind the fearful experience in the burning factory, when he lay in the hallway held down by the firebrand. He entered a restaurant, and seating himself at a small table in a recess, ordered food. Then, taking a photograph from his pocket, he imprinted many kisses upon the pictured face of his wife.

"Poor child!" he murmured. "She has already received my letter – God help her! I am sure, though, she will bid me return, as soon as she reads the letter."

The waiter soon returned, and Alden said:

"Can you direct me to an inexpensive, respectable private boarding-house, where I can find comfort? I am not well."

"Yes, sir," replied the waiter, "I can direct you to just such a place as you desire."

His supper finished, he paid his bill, and with directions from the waiter he started in search of the boarding-house, which he soon found. Making known his wants, the good lady, after asking a few questions and looking into his honest face, decided to take him as a boarder. It was fortunate for him that she did, for Mrs. Nash afterward proved a valuable friend at a time when Alden stood in need of care and attention.

In the solitude of his room he threw himself into a chair and gave way to a paroxysm of mental anguish, reproaching himself for deserting his home and friends, for the act was an acknowledgment of guilt. Retiring at an early hour, exhaustion made him sleep soundly. In dreamland he forgot his troubles, again living over those happy days passed with his loving wife and sister.

Sancho Panza uttered the sentiments of every living creature, when he invoked God's blessing upon the man who invented sleep.

As the morning sun crept into Alden's apartment its rays fell upon the sleeper's face and caused him to move his head upon the pillow. In a moment he opened his eyes, gazing about the room as if in doubt of his whereabouts; gradually the painful realities of life drove the happy dreams from his mind, filling his heart with sad thoughts, his only companions the past few days. Quitting his bed, he dressed himself, and involuntarily glancing into the mirror he started back in affright, and said:

"My God! is that haggard-looking face mine? Here I am, far away from home and kindred, hiding in Chicago. For what? Because I was a coward. Yes; having braved the dangers of fire, I did not have courage to face my false accuser. Oh, why did I run away like a thief?"

Overcoming his agitation, he bathed, dressed, and was soon ready to descend to the breakfast-room. At the table he met others, to whom he was introduced, but his heavy heart usurping the whole space within him, he talked little and ate less.

His meal finished, he returned to his room to wait for expected letters. Two long days passed, and the suspense was straining his nerves to their utmost tension; unable to divert his mind by reading, he watched the passage of time, which never moved so slowly. Saturday evening he sent Mrs. Nash's son to the post-office, instructing him to inquire for letters for George Howard, the latter his mother's maiden name, assumed by him on leaving Cleverdale; but the lad returned without tidings from either wife or sister.

On Sunday, leaving his room for a walk, he cared nothing for the sights that another time and under different circumstances would have pleased and interested him. Attending morning service at church, his thoughts were far away, an eloquent discourse failing to arouse him from his abstraction. The service over, he sought his boarding-house, and was going directly to his room, when Mrs. Nash accosted him, and said:

"Mr. Howard, you seem ill; can I do anything for you?"

Halting to see whom she was addressing, he recalled his assumed name, and replied:

"No, I am weary, that is all. Thank you for your interest in me."

"But, sir, you do not look strong. Pardon me, but have you been ill?"

"Yes, I have been very ill for many months, but am getting stronger now, and will soon be well again."

The sigh that escaped him convinced the good woman his sufferings were mental. Observing the paleness overspreading his face, her heart was touched, but not wishing to appear impertinent, she said:

"I have a son about your age, far away in a foreign clime, and you must forgive me, if I, a mother, take an interest in you. If I could only know the whereabouts of my own boy, I could close my eyes in peace instead of lying upon my pillow each night imagining him surrounded by all kinds of danger and temptations," and she raised her handkerchief to her eyes.

"I pity any person in trouble," Alden said, "for I have had my share of sorrow and suffering." He would have said more, but at that moment the door-bell rang, and Mrs. Nash said:

"If you are in trouble confide in me, and I will try and give you the consolation I hope some good person will give my own poor boy."

George Howard – we must for the present call him by that name – passed on to his room, while the good woman went to answer the door-bell. At the supper table she spoke kindly to the new boarder, who ate but little, and soon re-entered his room.

The following day, sending again to the post-office, the boy returned bearing in his hand a letter addressed to George Howard, Chicago, Ill.

Seizing it with trembling hands, Alden hastily tore open the envelope, looked at the few lines it contained, and holding the sheet before his eyes, with a trembling voice read aloud:

"Cleverdale, 187–.

"Sir: On receipt of your letter, I immediately returned to Cleverdale. When I thought you an honest man, I respected and loved you, but your crime has aroused me from this dream. Never dare address me again, for I abhor a villain.

Belle Hamblin."

He crushed the letter and tore it into shreds. As the pieces fell from his hand his pale face became suffused with scarlet, and large cords rose on his temples and brow as he said:

"My God! – And she too believes it? I did not think that – Oh, my head is bursting —I am dying – God, have mercy – I – I– "

He staggered and fell heavily to the floor. Mrs. Nash hastily entering the room beheld him lying senseless upon the carpet. The good woman, seeing the scattered pieces of paper, at once comprehended the situation, for she knew her young son had brought a letter which must have contained bad news.

"Poor fellow! I am afraid he is gone." Stooping, she placed her hand over his heart. "No, he is not dead," she continued.

She stepped into the hall and summoned help; and two women lifted the insensible form to the bed. A physician was called at once, and attempted to resuscitate him. Remaining in a partial stupor all day, toward night Alden began to show signs of returning consciousness. The following day, as he lay upon his bed looking at the kind-hearted woman watching over him, his mind seemed utterly broken down, for his appearance was that of listless disinterestedness. His face was pale, with the exception of a bright-red spot on either cheek.

For three long weary months he kept his room, yet never murmured at fate's decrees. His hostess constantly watched her patient, and never troubled him with questions; her only desire being for his recovery. The physician gave orders that he must be kept perfectly quiet, and all letters withheld from him, unless containing cheering news. No letters came, however, and the good woman wondered; but had she known of the scenes taking place elsewhere, she would have been filled with greater wonder.