CHAPTER XXII. THE WELCOME LETTER
“Hector,” said Mr. Crabb, nervously, “I am going to leave the institute at the end of the week.”
“Have you secured another situation, Mr. Crabb?” asked Hector, hopefully.
“No,” answered the usher, shaking his head. “I have been discharged.”
“For what reason?”
“For interfering with Mr. Smith’s nephew when he was brutally abusing Wilkins.”
“Did Mr. Smith fully understand the circumstances?”
“Yes; but he stands by his nephew right or wrong. He blamed me for checking his nephew’s brutality.”
“This is shameful!” said Hector, warmly. “May I ask, Mr. Crabb, if you have formed any plans?”
“No, except to seek a new position!” answered Crabb. “I fear,” he added, despondently, “that it may be some time before I am so fortunate. Roscoe, I don’t know what to do when I leave the school. I shall barely have five dollars, and you know I have not only myself, but another to support.”
“Keep up your courage, Mr. Crabb! It is nearly time for me to hear from the friend in New York to whom I wrote is your behalf. If you can secure the position of his private tutor—”
“If I can, I will hail it as providential. It will relieve me at once from all anxiety.”
“I don’t think I shall long remain here myself, Mr. Crabb,” said Hector. “I came here with the full intention of making the most of the facilities the institute affords for education, but I find the principal incompetent, and disposed to connive at injustice and brutality. The only good I have got here has been derived from your instructions.”
“Thank you, Roscoe. Such a tribute is, indeed, welcome,” said the usher, warmly.
“It is quite sincere, Mr. Crabb, and I hope my good wishes may bring you the advantage which I have in view.”
“Thank you, Roscoe. I don’t blame you for being disgusted with the management of the school. You have yourself suffered injustice.”
“Yes; in writing home, and charging me with theft, before he had investigated the circumstances, Mr. Smith did me a great injustice. I doubt whether he has since written to correct the false charge, as I required him to do. If not, I shall owe it to myself to leave the school.”
“You will be justified in doing so.” The next day brought Hector two letters. One was from Allan Roscoe, and read as follows:
“HECTOR: I have received from your worthy teacher a letter which has filled me with grief and displeasure. I knew you had great faults, but I did not dream that you would stoop so low as to purloin money, as it seems you have done. Mr. Smith writes me that there is no room to doubt your guilt. He himself discovered in the pocket of your pantaloons a wallet containing a large sum of money, which he had missed only a short time before. He learned that you had entered his chamber, and taken the money, being tempted by your own dishonest and depraved heart.
“I cannot express the shame I feel at this revelation of baseness. I am truly glad that you are not connected with me by blood. Yet I cannot forget that my poor brother treated you as a son; and took pains to train you up in right ideas. It would give him deep pain could he know how the boy whom he so heaped with benefits has turned out! I may say that Guy is as much shocked as I am, but he, it seems, had a better knowledge of you than I; for he tells me he is not surprised to hear it. I confess I am, for I thought better of you.
“Under the circumstances I shall not feel justified in doing for you as much as I intended. I proposed to keep you at school for two years more, but I have now to announce that this is your last term, and I advise you to make the most of it. I will try, when the term closes, to find some situation for you, where your employer’s money will not pass through your hands. ALLAN ROSCOE.”
Hector read the letter with conflicting feelings, the most prominent being indignation and contempt for the man who so easily allowed himself to think evil of him.
The other letter he found more satisfactory.
It was from his young friend in New York, Walter Boss. As it is short, I subjoin it:
“DEAR HECTOR: I am ever so glad to hear from you, but I should like much better to see you. I read to papa what you said of Mr. Crabb, and he says it is very apropos, as he had made up his mind to get me a tutor. I am rather backward, you see, not having your taste for study, and papa thinks I need special attention. He says that your recommendation is sufficient, and he will engage Mr. Crabb without any further inquiry; and he says he can come at once. He will give him sixty dollars a month and board, and he will have considerable time for himself, if he wants to study law or any other profession. I don’t know but a cousin may join me in my studies, in which case he will pay a hundred dollars per month, if that will be sastisfactory.
“Why can’t you come and make me a visit? We’ll have jolly fun. Come and stay a month, old chap. There is no one I should like better. Your friend, WALTER Boss.”
Hector read this letter with genuine delight. It offered a way of escape, both for the unfortunate usher and himself. Nothing could be more “apropos” to quote Walter’s expression.
Our hero lost no time in seeking out Mr. Crabb.
“You seem in good spirits, Roscoe,” said the usher, his careworn face contrasting with the beaming countenance of his pupil.
“Yes, Mr. Crabb, I have reason to be, and so have you.”
“Have you heard from your friend?” asked the usher, hopefully.
“Yes, and it’s all right.”
Mr. Crabb looked ten years younger.
“Is it really true?” he asked.
“It is true that you are engaged as private tutor to my friend, Walter. You’ll find him a splendid fellow, but I don’t know if the pay is sufficient,” continued Hector, gravely.
“I am willing to take less pay than I get here,” said the usher, “for the sake of getting away.”
“How much do you receive here?”
“Twenty dollar a month and board. I might, perhaps, get along on a little less,” he added doubtfully.
“You won’t have to, Mr. Crabb. You are offered sixty dollars a month and a home.”
“You are not in earnest, Roscoe?” asked the usher, who could not believe in his good fortune.
“I will read you the letter, Mr. Crabb.”
When it was read the usher looked radiant. “Roscoe,” he said, “you come to me like an angel from heaven. Just now I was sad and depressed; now it seems to me that the whole future is radiant. Sixty dollars a month! Why, it will make me a rich man.”
“Mr. Crabb,” said Hector, with a lurking spirit of fun, “can you really make up your mind to leave Smith Institute, and its kind and benevolent principal?”
“I don’t think any prisoner ever welcomed his release with deeper thankfulness,” said the usher. “To be in the employ of a man whom you despise, yet to feel yourself a helpless and hopeless dependent on him is, I assure you, Roscoe, a position by no means to be envied. For two years that has been my lot.”
“But it will soon be over.”
“Yes, thanks to you. Why can’t you accompany me, Hector? I ought not, perhaps, to draw you away, but—”
“But listen to the letter I have received from my kind and considerate guardian, as he styles himself,” said Hector.
He read Allan Roscoe’s letter to the usher.
“He seems in a great hurry to condemn you,” said Mr. Crabb.
“Yes, and to get me off his hands,” said Hector, proudly. “Well, he shall be gratified in the last. I shall accept Walter’s invitation, and we will go up to New York together.”
“That will, indeed, please me. Of course, you will undeceive your guardian.”
“Yes. I will get Wilkins and Platt to prepare a statement of the facts in the case, and accompany it by a note releasing Mr. Roscoe from any further care or expense for me.”
“But, Hector, can you afford to do this?”
“I cannot afford to do otherwise, Mr. Crabb. I shall find friends, and I am willing to work for my living, if need be.”
At this point one of the boys came to Mr. Crabb with a message from Socrates, desiring the usher to wait upon him at once.
CHAPTER XXIII. ANOTHER CHANCE FOR THE USHER
Mr. Smith had been thinking it over. He had discharged Mr. Crabb in the anger of the moment, but after his anger had abated, he considered that it was not for his interest to part with him. Mr. Crabb was a competent teacher, and it would be well-nigh impossible to obtain another so cheap. Twenty dollars a month for a teacher qualified to instruct in Latin and Greek was certainly a beggarly sum, but Mr. Crabb’s dire necessity had compelled him to accept it. Where could he look for another teacher as cheap? Socrates Smith appreciated the difficulty, and decided to take Mr. Crabb back, on condition that he would make an apology to Jim.
To do Mr. Crabb justice, it may be said that he would not have done this even if he saw no chance of another situation. But this Mr. Smith did not know. He did observe, however, that the usher entered his presence calm, erect and appearing by no means depressed, as he had expected.
“You sent for me, sir?” said the usher interrogatively.
“Yes, Mr. Crabb. You will remember that I had occasion to rebuke you, when we last conferred together, for overstepping the limits of your authority?”
“I remember, Mr. Smith, that you showed anger, and found fault with me.”
“Exactly so.”
“Why doesn’t he ask to be taken back?” thought Socrates.
“I have thought the matter over since,” continued the principal, “and have concluded we might be able to arrange matters.”
The usher was surprised. He had not expected that Mr. Smith would make overtures of reconciliation. He decided not to mention at present his brighter prospects in New York, but to wait and see what further his employer had to say.
Mr. Crabb bowed, but did not make any reply.
“I take it for granted, Mr. Crabb, that your means are limited,” proceeded Socrates.
“You are right there, sir. If I had not been poor I should not have accepted the position of teacher in Smith Institute for the pitiful salary of twenty dollars a month.”
“Twenty dollars a month and your board, Mr. Crabb,” said Socrates, with dignity, “I consider a very fair remuneration.”
“I do not, Mr. Smith,” said the usher, in a decided tone.
“I apprehend you will find it considerably better than to be out of employment,” said Socrates, rather angry.
“You are right there, sir.”
“I am glad you show signs of returning reason. Well, Mr. Crabb, I have thought the matter over, and I have a proposal to make to you.”
“Very well, sir!”
“I do not wish to distress you by taking away your means of livelihood.”
“You are very considerate, sir.”
There was something in Mr. Crabb’s tone that Socrates did not understand. It really seemed that he did not care whether he was taken back or not. But, of course, this could not be. It was absolutely necessary for him, poor as he was, that he should be reinstated. So Mr. Smith proceeded.
“To cut the matter short, I am willing to take you back on two conditions.”
“May I ask you to name them?”
“The first is, that you shall apologize to my nephew for your unjustifiable attack upon him day before yesterday.”
“What is the other, Mr. Smith?”
“The other is, that hereafter you will not exceed the limits of your authority.”
“And you wish my answer?” asked the usher, raising his eyes, and looking fixedly at his employer.
“If you please, Mr. Crabb.”
“Then, sir, you shall have it. Your proposal that I should apologize to that overgrown bully for restraining him in his savage treatment of a fellow-pupil is both ridiculous and insulting.”
“You forget yourself, Mr. Crabb,” said Socrates, gazing at the hitherto humble usher in stupefaction.
“As to promising not to do it again, you will understand that I shall make no such engagement.”
“Then, Mr. Crabb,” said Socrates, angrily, “I shall adhere to what I said the other day. At the end of this week you must leave me.”
“Of course, sir, that is understood!”
“You haven’t another engagement, I take it,” said Mr. Smith, very much puzzled by the usher’s extraordinary independence.
“Yes, sir, I have.”
“Indeed!” said Socrates, amazed. “Where do you go?” Then was Mr. Crabb’s time for triumph.
“I have received this morning an offer from the city of New York,” he said.
“From New York! Is it in a school?”
“No, sir; I am to be private tutor in a family.”
“Indeed! Do you receive as good pay as here?”
“As good!” echoed the usher. “I am offered sixty dollars a month and board, with the possibility of a larger sum, in the event of extra service being demanded.”
Socrates Smith had never been more surprised.
This Mr. Crabb, whom he had considered to be under his thumb, as being wholly dependent upon him, was to receive a salary which he considered princely.
“How did you get this office?” he asked.
“Through my friend, Hector Roscoe,” answered the usher.
“Probably he is deceiving you. It is ridiculous to offer you such a sum.”
“I am quite aware that you would never think of offering it, but, Mr. Smith, there are other employers more generous.”
Mr. Crabb left the office with the satisfied feeling that he had the best of the encounter.. He would have felt gratified could he have known the increased respect with which he was regarded by the principal as a teacher who could command so lucrative an engagement in the great city of New York.
Before closing this chapter I must take notice of one circumstance which troubled Mr. Smith, and in the end worked him additional loss.
I have already said that Jim Smith, in appropriating his uncle’s wallet, abstracted therefrom a five-dollar bill before concealing it in Hector’s pocket.
This loss Mr. Smith speedily discovered, and he questioned Jim about it.
“I suppose Roscoe took it,” said Jim, glibly.
“But he says he did not take the wallet,” said Socrates, who was assured in his own mind that his nephew was the one who found it on the bureau. Without stigmatizing him as a thief, he concluded that Jim meant to get Hector into trouble.
“Wasn’t it found in his pants’ pocket?” queried Jim.
“Yes, but why should he take five dollars out of the wallet?”
“I don’t know.”
“It doesn’t look likely that he would!” said Socrates, eying Jim keenly.
“Then it may have been Ben Platt or Wilkins,” said Jim, with a bright idea.
“So it might,” said the principal, with a feeling of relief.
“They said they were in the room—at any rate, Platt said so—at the time it was concealed, only he made a mistake and took Roscoe for me.”
“There is something in that, James. It may be as you suggest.”
“They are both sneaks,” said Jim, who designated all his enemies by that name. “They’d just as lieve do it as not. I never liked them.”
“I must look into this matter. It’s clear that some one has got this money, and whoever has it has got possession of it dishonestly.”
“To be sure,” answered Jim, with unblushing assurance. “If I were you I would find out who did it, that is, if you don’t think Roscoe did it.”
“No, I don’t think Roscoe did it, now. You may tell Platt and Wilkins that I wish to see them.”
Jim could not have been assigned a more pleasing duty. He hated the two boys quite as much as he did Hector, and he was glad to feel that they were likely to get into hot water.
He looked about for some time before he found the two boys. At length he espied them returning from a walk.
“Here, you two!” he called out, in a voice ef authority. “You’re wanted!”
“Who wants us?” asked Ben Platt.
“My uncle wants you,” answered Jim, with malicious satisfaction. “You’d better go and see him right off, too. You won’t find it a trifling matter, either.”
“Probably Jim has been hatchng some mischief,” said Wilkins. “He owes us a grudge. We’ll go and see what it is.”
CHAPTER XXIV. THE YOUNG DETECTIVES
When Mr. Smith had made the two boys’ understand that he suspected them of purloining the missing five-dollar bill, they were naturally very indignant.
“Mr. Smith,” said Ben Platt, in a spirited tone, “no one ever suspected me of dishonesty before.”
“Nor me,” said Wilkins.
“That’s neither here nor there,” said the principal, dogmatically. “It stands to reason that some one took the money. Money doesn’t generally walk off itself,” he added, with a sneer.
“I don’t dispute that,” said Ben; “but that does not prove that Wilkins or I had anything to do with it.”
“You were in the room with the money for half an hour, according to your own confession,” said Socrates.
“Yes, I was.”
“And part of that time Wilkins was also present.”
“Yes, sir,” assented Wilkins.
“I am no lawyer,” said the principal, triumphantly, “but that seems to me a pretty good case of circumstantial evidence.”
“You seem to forget, sir, that there is another person who had an excellent chance to take the money,” said Ben Platt.
“You mean Hector Roscoe? That is true. It lies between you three.”
“No, Mr. Smith, I do not mean Hector Roscoe. I have as much confidence in Roscoe as myself.”
“So have I,” sneered Socrates.
“And I know he would not take any money that did not belong to him. I mean a very different person—your nephew, James Smith.”
Socrates Smith frowned with anger. “There seems to be a conspiracy against my unfortunate nephew,” he said. “I don’t believe a word of your mean insinuations, and I am not deceived by your attempt to throw your own criminality upon him. It will not injure him in my eyes. Moreover, I shall be able to trace back the theft to the wrongdoer. The missing bill was marked with a cross upon the back, and should either of you attempt to pass it, your guilt will be made manifest. I advise you to restore it to me while there is yet time.”
“The bill was marked?” asked Wilkins, eagerly.
“Yes.”
“Then, sir, you may have a chance to find out who took it.”
“The discovery might not please you,” said Socrates, with a sneer.
“It would give me the greatest pleasure, Mr. Smith. If I can in any way help you discover the missing note, I will do so.”
“You can go,” said Socrates, abruptly.
When the two boys had left the presence of the principal, Ben Platt, said, “What are you going to do about it, Wilkins?”
“First of all,” answered Wilkins, promptly, “I am going to find out if Jim took that money.”
“How can you find out?”
“Did you notice that he had come out with a new ring?”
“No, I didn’t observe it.”
“He has bought it since that money was lost!” said Wilkins, significantly.
“Do you think he purchased it with the missing bill?”
“I wouldn’t wonder at all. At any rate, I am going to find out. He must have bought it from Washburn, the jeweler. Will you go with me, and ask?”
“Yes,” answered Ben, eagerly. “Let us go alone. If we can only prove the theft upon Jim, so that old Sock can’t help believing that he stole the money, we shall be cleared; though, as to that, there isn’t a scholar in school who would believe the charge against us.”
“Still, we may as well do what we can to bring the guilt home to Jim Smith.”
Ten minutes later the two boys entered the shop of Mr. Washburn.
“Will you show me some rings, Mr. Washburn?” asked Wilkins.
“Certainly,” answered the jeweler, politely.
“What is the price of that?” asked Wilkins, pointing to one exactly like the one he had seen on Jim’s finger.
“Three dollars and a half. It is a very pretty pattern.”
“Yes, sir. There’s one of our boys who has one just like it.”
“You mean James Smith, the principal’s nephew.”
“Yes, sir.”
“He bought it of me yesterday.”
The two boys exchanged a quick glance.
They felt that they were on the brink of a discovery.
“Did he give you a five-dollar bill in payment?” asked Ben Platt.
“Yes,” answered the jeweler, in surprise.
“Could you identify that bill?”
“What are you driving at, boys?” asked Mr. Washburn, keenly.
“I will explain to you if you will answer my questions first.”
“Yes, I could identify the bill.”
“Have you it in your possession still?”
“I have.”
“How will you know it?”
“It seems to me, my boy, you are in training for a lawyer.”
“I have a very urgent reason for asking you this question, Mr. Washburn.”
“Then I will answer you. When the note was given me, I noticed that it was on the Park Bank of New York.”
“Will you be kind enough to see if you can find it?”’
“Certainly.”
The jeweler opened his money drawer, and after a brief search, produced the bill in question.
It was a five-dollar bill on the Park Bank of New York, as he had already told the boys.
“Now, Mr. Washburn,” asked Wilkins, trying to repress his excitement, “will you examine the back of the bill, and see if there is any mark on it.”
The jeweler did as requested, and announced, after slight examination, that there was a cross on the back of the bill in the upper right hand corner.
“Hurrah!” shouted Ben, impulsively.
To the wondering jeweler he explained his precise object in the inquiry he had made, and the boys were complimented by Mr. Washburn for their shrewdness.
“If I ever meet with a loss, I shall certainly call on you for assistance, boys,” he said.
“Thank you, Mr. Washburn,” answered Wilkins, “but I do not expect to be here to be called upon.”
“You are not going to leave the institute, are you?”
“I shall write to my father in what manner I have been treated, and let him understand how the principal manages the school, and I feel sure he will withdraw me.”
“Ditto for me!” said Ben Platt. “Old Sock’s partiality for his nephew has been carried too far, and now that the only decent teacher is going—Mr. Crabb—I don’t mean, to stay here if I can help it.”
The boys, upon their return to the school, sought out the principal.
“Well, boys,” he said, “have you come to confess?”
“No, sir,” answered Ben, “but we have come to give you some information about your money.”
“I was sure you knew something about it,” said Socrates, with a sneer. “I am glad you have decided to make a clean breast of it.”
“You are mistaken, sir.”
“Well, out with your information!” said the principal, roughly.
“A five-dollar bill, marked as you have described, was paid to Mr. Washburn, the jeweler, only yesterday.”
“Ha! Well?”
“The one who offered it purchased a gold ring.”
“I don’t care what he bought. Who was it that offered the money?”
“Your nephew, James Smith!”
“I don’t believe it,” said the teacher, very much disconcerted.
“Then, sir, I advise you to question Mr. Washburn.”
“How can he identify the bill? Is it the only five-dollar bill he has?”
“The only five-dollar bill on the Park Bank of New York, and he says he noticed that this was the bank that issued the bill handed him by your nephew.”
“What of that?”
“The note, which he still has in his possession, is marked just exactly as you have described.”
“It may have been marked since it came into Mr. Washburn’s hands,” said Socrates, but he was evidently very much disturbed by the intelligence. He might not confess it, but he could not help believing that Jim was the thief, after all.
“You can go,” he said, harshly. “I will look into this improbable story.”