Paul the Peddler; Or, The Fortunes of a Young Street Merchant

CHAPTER XXII
A MAN OF RESOURCES

“Well, that was a narrow escape,” said Mr. Montgomery, with a sigh of relief. “I think I managed rather cleverly, eh?”

“I wanted to box the boys ears,” said Mrs. Montgomery, sharply.

“It wouldn’t have been in character, my dear. Ha, ha!” he laughed, softly, “we imposed upon the officer neatly. Our young friend got rather the worst of it.”

“Why don’t you call things by their right names? He isn’t much of a friend.”

“Names are of no consequence, my dear.”

“Well, what are you going to do next?” asked the lady, abruptly.

“About the ring?”

“Of course.”

“I hardly know,” said Mr. Montgomery, reflectively. “If it were not for appearing too anxious, I would go back to Ball & Black’s now that our young friend is otherwise engaged, and can’t interrupt us.”

“Suppose we go?”

“Well, you see, it might be considered rather soon for you to recover from your fit. Besides, I don’t know what stories this boy may have thought fit to tell about us.”

“He didn’t have time to say anything.”

“Perhaps you are right.”

“We want to dispose of the ring as soon as possible, and leave the city.”

“That is true. Well, if you say so, we will go back.”

“It seems to me now is the best time. The boy will tell his story to the officer and we may be inquired for.”

“Then, my dear, I will follow your advice.”

Mr. and Mrs. Montgomery turned, and directed their steps again toward Broadway. The distance was short, and fifteen minutes had scarcely elapsed since they left the store before they again entered it. They made their way to the lower end of the store and accosted the same clerk with whom they had before spoken.

“Is your wife better?” he asked.

“Much better, thank you. A turn in the air always relieves her, and she is quite herself again. I have returned because it is necessary for me to leave the city by the evening train, and my time is, therefore, short. Will you be kind enough to show the ring to your employer, and ask him if he will purchase?”

The clerk returned, and said that the firm would pay two hundred and fifty dollars, but must be assured of his right to dispose of it.

“Did you mention my name?” asked the adventurer.

“I mentioned that you were a clergyman. I could not remember the name.”

“The Rev. Mr. Barnes, of Hayfield Centre, Connecticut. I have been preaching there for—is it six or seven years, my dear?”

“Seven,” said his wife.

“I should think that would be sufficient. You may mention that to Mr. Ball or Mr. Black, if you please. I presume after that he will not be afraid to purchase.”

Mr. Montgomery said this with an air of conscious respectability and high standing, which might readily impose upon strangers. But, by bad luck, what he had said was heard by a person able to confute him.

“Did you say you were from Hayfield Centre?” asked a gentleman, standing a few feet distant.

“Yes,” said Mr. Montgomery.

“I think you said your name was Barnes?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And that you have been preaching there for the last seven years?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Mr. Montgomery, but there was rather less confidence in his tone. In fact he was beginning to feel uneasy.

“It is very strange,” said the other. “I have a sister living in Hayfield Centre, and frequently visit the place myself, and so of course know something of it. Yet I have never heard of any clergyman named Barnes preaching there.”

Mr. Montgomery saw that things looked critical.

“You are strangely mistaken, sir,” he said. “However, I will not press the sale. If you will return the ring (to the clerk) I will dispose of it elsewhere.”

But the clerk’s suspicions had been aroused by what had been said.

“I will first speak to Mr. Ball,” he said.

“There is no occasion to speak to him. I shall not sell the ring to-day. To-morrow, I will come with witnesses whose testimony will outweigh that of this gentleman, who I suspect never was in Hayfield Centre in his life. I will trouble you for the ring.”

“I hope you don’t intend to give it to him,” said the gentleman. “The presumption is that, as he is masquerading, he has not come by it honestly.”

“I shall not deign to notice your insinuations,” said Mr. Montgomery, who concealed beneath a consequential tone his real uneasiness. “The ring, if you please.”

“Don’t give it to him.”

As the clerk seemed disinclined to surrender the ring, Mr. Montgomery said: “Young man, you will find it to be a serious matter to withhold my property.”

“Perhaps I had better give it to him,” said the clerk, imposed upon by the adventurer’s manner.

“Require him to prove property. If it is really his, he can readily do this.”

“My dear,” said the Rev. Mr. Barnes, “we will leave the store.”

“What, and leave the ring?”

“For the present. I will invoke the aid of the police to save me from being robbed in this extraordinary manner.”

He walked to the street door, accompanied by his wife. He was deeply disappointed at the failure of the sale, and would gladly have wreaked vengeance upon the stranger who had prevented it. But he saw that his safety required an immediate retreat. In addition to his own disappointment, he had to bear his wife’s censure.

“If you had the spirit of a man, Mr. Montgomery,” she commenced, “you wouldn’t have given up that ring so easily. He had no business to keep it.”

“I would have called in a policeman if I dared, but you know I am not on the best of terms with these gentlemen.”

“Are we to lose the ring, then?”

“I am afraid so, unless I can make them believe in the store that I am really what I pretend to be.”

“Can’t you do it?”

“Not very easily, unless stay, I have an idea. Do you see that young man?”

He directed his wife’s attention to a young man, evidently fresh from the country, who was approaching, staring open-eyed at the unwonted sights of the city. He was dressed in a blue coat with brass buttons, while his pantaloons, of a check pattern, terminated rather higher up than was in accordance with the fashion.

“Yes, I see him,” said Mrs. Montgomery. “What of him?”

“I am going to recover the ring through his help.”

“I don’t see how.”

“You will see.”

“How do you do?” said the adventurer, cordially, advancing to the young man, and seizing his hand.

“Pretty smart,” said the countryman, looking surprised.

“Are your parents quite well?”

“They’re so’s to be around.”

“When did you come to the city?”

“This mornin’.”

“Do you stay any length of time?”

“I’m goin’ back this afternoon.”

“You didn’t expect to meet me now, did you?” asked Mr. Montgomery.

“I s’pose I’d orter know you,” said the perplexed youth, “but I can’t think what your name is.”

“What! Not know Mr. Barnes, the minister of Hayfield Centre? Don’t you remember hearing me preach for your minister?”

“Seems to me I do,” answered the young man, persuading himself that he ought to remember.

“Of course you do. Now, my young friend, I am very glad to have met you.”

“So am I,” said the other, awkwardly.

“You can do me a favor, if you will.”

“Of course, I will,” said Jonathan, “if it’s anything I can do.”

“Yes, you will have no trouble about it. You see, I went into a jeweler’s near by to sell a valuable ring, and they wanted to make sure I was really a minister, and not intending to cheat them. If you will go in with me, and say that you have often heard me preach, and that I am the Rev. Mr. Barnes, of Hayfield Centre, I won’t mind paying you five dollars for your trouble.”

“All right; I’ll do it,” said the rustic, considering that it would be an unusually easy way of earning few dollars.

“You’ll remember the name, won’t you?”

“Yes—Parson Barnes, of Hayfield Centre.”

“That is right. The store is near by. Walk along with us, and we will be there in five minutes.”

CHAPTER XXIII
A NEW EXPEDIENT

“I believe your name is Peck?” said Mr. Montgomery, hazarding a guess.

“No, it’s Young, Ephraim Young.”

“Of course it is. I remember now, but I am apt to forget names. You said your parents were quite well?”

“Yes, they’re pretty smart.”

“I am glad to hear it; I have the pleasantest recollections of your excellent father. Let me see, didn’t you call there with me once, Mrs. Barnes?”

“Not that I remember.”

“You must go with me the next time. I want you to know the parents of our young friend. They are excellent people. Do you go back this afternoon, Mr. Young?”

“Yes, I guess so. You don’t know of any sitooation I could get in a store round here, do you?”

“Not at present, but I have some influential friends to whom I will mention your name. Suppose, now, I could obtain a situation for you, how shall I direct the letter letting you know?”

“Just put on the letter ‘Ephraim Young.’ Everybody in Plainfield knows me.”

“So he lives in Plainfield,” said Mr. Montgomery to himself. “It’s as well to know that.” Then aloud: “I won’t forget, Mr. Young. What sort of business would you prefer?”

“Any kind that’ll pay,” said the gratified youth, firmly convinced of his companion’s ability to fulfill his promise. “I’ve got tired of stayin’ round home, and I’d like to try York a little while. Folks say it’s easy to make money here.”

“You are right. If I were a business man, I would come to New York at once. For a smart young man like you it offers a much better opening than a country village.”

“That’s what I’ve told dad often,” said the rustic, “but he’s afraid I wouldn’t get nothing to do and he says it’s dreadful expensive livin’ here.”

“So it is expensive, but then you will be better paid than in the country. However, here we are. You won’t forget what I told you?”

“No—I’ll remember,” said the young man.

The reappearance of Mr. Barnes and wife so soon excited some surprise in the store, for it had got around, as such things will, that he was an impostor, and it was supposed that he would not venture to show his face there again. The appearance of his rustic companion likewise attracted attention. Certainly, Mr. Montgomery (it makes little difference what we call him) did not exhibit the slightest appearance of apprehension, but his manner was quite cool and self-possessed. He made his way to that part of the counter attended by the clerk with whom he had before spoken. He observed with pleasure and relief that the man who had questioned his identity with any of the ministers of Hayfield Centre was no longer in the store. This would make the recovery of the ring considerably easier.

“Well, sir,” he said, addressing the clerk, “I suppose you did not expect to see me again so soon?”

“No, sir.”

“Nor did I expect to be able to return for the ring before to-morrow, not supposing that I could bring witnesses to prove that I was what I represented. But fortunately I met just now a young friend, who can testify to my identity, as he has heard me preach frequently in Plainfield, where he resides. Mr. Young, will you be kind enough to tell this gentleman who I am?”

“Parson Barnes, of Hayfield Centre,” said the youth, confidently.

“You have heard me preach, have you not, in Plainfield?”

“Yes,” said the young man, fully believing that he was telling the truth.

“And I have called on your parents?”

“Yes.”

“I think,” said the adventurer, “that will be sufficient to convince you that I am what I appear.”

It was hard to doubt, in the face of such evidence. Ephraim Young was so unmistakably from the rural districts that it would have been absurd to suspect him of being an artful city rogue. Besides, Mr. Barnes himself was got up so naturally that all the clerk’s doubts vanished at once. He concluded that the customer who had questioned his genuineness must be very much mistaken.

“I ought to apologize to you, sir,” he said, “for doubting your word. But in a city like this you know one has to be very careful.”

“Of course,” said the adventurer, blandly, “I do not blame you in the least. You only did your duty, though it might have cost me some trouble and inconvenience.”

“I am sorry, sir.”

“No apologies, I beg. It has all turned out right, and your mistake was a natural one. If you will kindly return me the ring, I will defer selling it, I think, till another day.”

The clerk brought the ring, which he handed back to Mr. Montgomery. The latter received it with so much the more satisfaction, as he had made up his mind at one time that it was gone irrevocably, and put it away in his waistcoat pocket.

“I had intended to buy some silver spoons,” he said, “but it will be necessary to wait until I have disposed of the ring. However, I may as well look at some, eh, Mrs. Barnes?”

“If you like,” assented the lady.

So the pair examined some spoons, and fixed upon a dozen, which they said they would return and buy on the next day, and then, with a polite good-by, went out of the store, leaving behind, on the whole, a favorable impression.

Ephraim Young accompanied them out, and walked along beside them in the street. He, too, was in good spirits, for had not his companion promised him five dollars for his services, which he had faithfully rendered? Five dollars to the young man from the rural districts was a very considerable sum of money—quite a nugget, in fact—and he already enjoyed in advance the pleasure which he anticipated of telling his friends at home how easily he had earned such a sum in “York.” He walked along beside the adventurer, expecting that he would say something about paying him, but no allusion was made by the adventurer to his promise. Indeed, five dollars was considerably more than he had in his possession. When they reached Amity street, for they were now proceeding up Broadway, he sought to shake off the young man, whose company he no longer desired.

“This is our way,” he said. “I suppose you are going further. I am very glad to have met you, Mr. Young. I hope you will give our regards to your excellent parents;” and he held out his hand in token of farewell.

“Ain’t you goin’ to pay me that money?” said Ephraim, bluntly, becoming alarmed at the prospect of losing the nugget he had counted on with so much confidence.

“Bless me, I came near forgetting it! I hope you will excuse me,” and to Ephraim’s delight he drew out his pocketbook. But the prospect of payment was not so bright as the young man supposed.

“I don’t think I have a five-dollar bill,” said Mr. Montgomery, after an examination of the pocketbook. “Mrs. Montgomery, do you happen to have a five with you?”

“No, I haven’t,” said the lady, promptly. “I spent all my money shopping this morning.”

“That is unfortunate. Our young friend has rendered us such a service I don’t like to make him wait for his money.”

Ephraim Young looked rather blank at this suggestion.

“Let me see, I have a hundred-dollar bill here,” said Mr. Montgomery. “I will go into the next store, and see if I can’t get it changed. Mr. Young, will you be kind enough to remain with my wife?”

“Certain,” said Ephraim, brightening up.

Mr. Montgomery went into a shop near by, but made no request to have a hundred-dollar bill changed. He was rather afraid that they might comply with his request, which would have subjected him to some embarrassment. He merely inquired if he could use a pen for a moment; request which was readily granted. In less than five minutes he emerged into the street again. Ephraim Young looked toward him eagerly.

“I am sorry to say, my young friend,” he remarked, “that I was unable to get my bill changed. I might get it changed at a bank, but the banks are all closed at this hour.”

The countryman looked disturbed.

“I am afraid,” continued Mr. Montgomery, “I must wait and send you the money in a letter from Hayfield Centre.”

“I’d rather have it now,” said Ephraim.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” said the adventurer smoothly; “but after all you will only have a day or two to wait. To make up to you for the delay I have decided to send you ten dollars instead of five. Finding I could not change my bill, I wrote a note for the amount, which I will hand you.”

Ephraim received the paper, which the other handed him, and read as follows:

NEW YORK, Sept 15, 18—.

Three days from date I promise to pay Mr. Ephraim Young ten dollars.

JOTHAM BARNES, of Hayfield Centre.

“How will that do?” asked the adventurer. “By waiting three days you double your money.”

“You’ll be sure to send it,” said Ephraim, doubtfully.

“My young friend, I hope you do not doubt me,” said the Rev. Mr. Barnes, impressively.

“I guess it’s all right,” said Ephraim, “only I thought I might like to spend the money in the city.”

“Much better save it up,” said the other. “By and by it may come in useful.”

Ephraim carefully folded up the note, and deposited it in an immense wallet, the gift of his father. He would have preferred the money which it represented: but three days would soon pass, and the ten dollars would be forwarded to him. He took leave of his new acquaintances, Mr. Montgomery shaking his hand with affectionate warmth, and requesting him to give his best respects to his parents. When Ephraim was out of sight he returned to his wife, with a humorous twinkle in his eye, and said:

“Wasn’t that cleverly done, old lady?”

“Good enough!” remarked the lady. “Now you’ve got the ring back again, what are you going to do with it?”

“That, my dear, is a subject which requires the maturest consideration. I shall endeavor to convert it as soon as possible into the largest possible sum in greenbacks. Otherwise I am afraid our board bill, and the note I have just given to my rural friend, will remain unpaid.”

CHAPTER XXIV
MR. MONTGOMERY’S ARREST

Having shaken off his country acquaintance, of whom he had no further need, Mr. Montgomery started to return to his lodgings. On the whole, he was in good spirits, though he had not effected the sale of the ring. But it was still in his possession, and it had a tangible value.

“I am sorry you did not sell the ring,” said Mrs. Montgomery.

“So am I,” said her husband. “We may have to sell it in some other city.”

“We can’t leave the city without money.”

“That’s true,” returned her husband, rather taken aback by what was undeniably true.

“We must sell the ring, or raise money on it, in New York.”

“I don’t know but you are right. The trouble is, there are not many places where they will buy so expensive an article. Besides, they will be apt to ask impertinent questions.”

“You might go to a pawnbroker’s.”

“And get fleeced. If I got a quarter of the value from a pawnbroker, I should be lucky.”

“We must do something with it,” said Mrs. Montgomery, decidedly.

“Right, my dear. We must get the sinews of war somewhere. Richard will never be himself again till his pocketbook is lined with greenbacks. At present, who steals my purse steals trash.”

“Suppose you try Tiffany’s?”

“The ring has already been offered there. They might remember it.”

“If they do, say that he is your son.”

“A good thought,” answered the husband. “I will act upon it. But, on the whole, I’ll doff this disguise, and assume my ordinary garments. This time, my dear, I shall not need your assistance.”

“Well, the sooner it’s done the better. That’s all I have to say.”

“As soon as possible.”

Mr. Montgomery returned to his lodgings in Amity street, and, taking off his clerical garb, appeared in the garb in which we first made his acquaintance. The change was very speedily effected.

“Wish me good luck, Mrs. M.,” he said, as he opened the door. “I am going to make another attempt.”

“Good luck to you, Tony! Come back soon.”

“As soon as my business is completed. If I get the money, we will leave for Philadelphia this evening. You may as well be packing up.”

“I am afraid the landlady won’t let us carry away our baggage unless we pay our bill.”

“Never mind! Pack it up, and we’ll run our chance.”

Felix Montgomery left the house with the ring carefully deposited in his vest pocket. To judge from his air of easy indifference, he might readily have been taken for a substantial citizen in excellent circumstances; but then appearances are oftentimes deceitful, and they were especially so in the present instance.

He made his way quickly to Broadway, and thence to Tiffany’s, at that time not so far uptown as at present. He entered the store with a nonchalant air, and, advancing to the counter, accosted the same clerk to whom Paul had shown the ring earlier in the day.

“I have a valuable ring which I would like to sell,” he said. “Will you tell me its value?”

The clerk no sooner took it in his hand than he recognized it.

“I have seen that ring before,” he said, looking at Mr. Montgomery keenly.

“Yes,” said the latter, composedly; “this morning, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“My boy brought it in here. I ought not to have sent him, for he came very near losing it on the way home. I thought it best to come with it myself.”

This was said so quietly that it was hard to doubt the statement, or would have been if information had not been brought to the store that the ring had been stolen.

“Yes, boys are careless,” assented the clerk, not caring to arouse Mr. Montgomery’s suspicions. “You wish to sell the ring, I suppose.”

“Yes,” answered the other; “I don’t like to carry a ring of so great value. Several times I have come near having it stolen. Will you buy it?”

“I am not authorized to make the purchase,” said the clerk. “I will refer the matter to Mr. Tiffany.”

“Very well,” said Mr. Montgomery. “I am willing to accept whatever he may pronounce a fair price.”

“No doubt,” thought the clerk.

He carried the ring to his employer, and quickly explained the circumstances.

“The man is doubtless a thief. He must be arrested,” said the jeweler.

“If I go for an officer, he will take alarm.”

“Invite him to come into the back part of the shop, and I will protract the negotiation while you summon a policeman.”

The clerk returned, and at his invitation Mr. Montgomery walked to the lower end of the store, where he was introduced to the head of the establishment. Sharp though he was, he suspected no plot.

“You are the owner of this ring?” asked Mr. Tiffany.

“Yes, sir,” said the adventurer. “It has been in our family for a long time.”

“But you wish to sell it now?”

“Yes; I have come near losing it several times, and prefer to dispose of it. What is its value?”

“That requires some consideration. I will examine it closely.”

Mr. Montgomery stood with his back to the entrance, waiting patiently, while the jeweler appeared to be engaged in a close examination of the ring. He congratulated himself that no questions had been asked which it might have been difficult for him to answer. He made up his mind that after due examination Mr. Tiffany would make an offer, which he determined in advance to accept, whatever it might be, since he would consider himself fortunate to dispose of it at even two-thirds of its value.

Meanwhile the clerk quietly slipped out of the store, and at a short distance encountered a policeman, upon whom he called for assistance. At the same moment Paul and Mr. Preston came up. Our hero, on being released from arrest, had sought Mr. Preston, and the latter obligingly agreed to go with him to Tiffany’s, and certify to his honesty, that, if the ring should be brought there, it might be retained for him. Paul did not recognize the clerk, but the latter at once remembered him.

“Are you not the boy that brought a diamond ring into our store this morning?” he asked.

“Into Tiffany’s?”

“Yes.”

“Have you seen anything of it?” asked our hero, eagerly. “I am the one who brought it in.”

“A man just brought it into the store,” said the clerk.

“Is he there now?”

“He is talking with Mr. Tiffany. I came out for a policeman. He will be arrested at once.”

“Good!” ejaculated Paul; “I am in luck. I thought I should never see the ring again. What sort of a man is he?”

From the description, Paul judged that it was Felix Montgomery himself, and, remembering what a trick the adventurer had played upon him at Lovejoy’s Hotel, he felt no little satisfaction in the thought that the trapper was himself trapped at last.

“I’ll go along with you,” he said. “I want to see that man arrested.”

“You had better stay outside just at first, until we have secured him.”

Meanwhile Mr. Tiffany, after a prolonged examination, said: “The ring is worth two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“That will be satisfactory,” said Mr. Montgomery, promptly.

“Shall I give you a check for the amount?” asked the jeweler.

“I should prefer the money, as I am a stranger in the city, and not known at the banks.”

“I can make the check payable to bearer, and then you will have no difficulty in getting it cashed.”

While this conversation was going on, the clerk entered the store with the policeman, but Mr. Montgomery’s back was turned, and he was not aware of the fact till the officer tapped him on the shoulder, saying: “You are my prisoner.”

“What does this mean? There is some mistake,” said the adventurer, wheeling round with a start.

“No mistake at all. You must come with me.”

“What have I done? You take me for some one else.”

“You have stolen a diamond ring.”

“Who says so?” demanded the adventurer, boldly. “It is true I brought one here to sell, but it has belonged to me for years.”

“You are mistaken, Mr. Montgomery,” said Paul, who had come up unperceived. “You stole that ring from me this morning, after dosing me with chloroform at Lovejoy’s Hotel.”

“It is a lie,” said the adventurer, boldly. “That boy is my son. He is in league with his mother to rob me. She sent him here this morning unknown to me. Finding it out, I took the ring from him, and brought it here myself.”

Paul was certainly surprised at being claimed as a son by the man who had swindled him, and answered: “I never saw you before this morning. I have no father living.”

“I will guarantee this boy’s truth and honesty,” said Mr. Preston, speaking for the first time. “I believe you know me, Mr. Tiffany.”

“I need no other assurance,” said the jeweler, bowing. “Officer, you may remove your prisoner.”

“The game is up,” said the adventurer, finding no further chance for deception. “I played for high stakes, and I have lost the game. I have one favor to ask. Will some one let my wife know where I am?”

“Give me her address,” said Paul, “and I will let her know.”

“No. – Amity street. Ask her to come to the station-house to see me.”

“I will go at once.”

“Thank you,” said Mr. Montgomery; “as I am not to have the ring, I don’t know that I am sorry it has fallen into your hands. One piece of advice I will venture to offer you, my lad,” he added, smiling. “Beware of any jewelers hailing from Syracuse. They will cheat you, if you give them a chance.”

“I will be on my guard,” said Paul. “Can I do anything more for you?”

“Nothing, thank you. I have a fast friend at my side, who will look after me.”

The officer smiled grimly at the jest, and the two left the store arm in arm.

“Do you still wish to sell this ring?” asked Mr. Tiffany, addressing Paul.

“Yes, sir.”

“I renew my offer of this morning. I will give you two hundred and fifty dollars.”

“I shall be glad to accept it.”

The sale was quickly effected, and Paul left the store with what seemed to him a fortune in his pocket.

“Be careful not to lose your money,” said Mr Preston.

“I should like to place a hundred and fifty dollars in your hands,” said Paul, turning to Mr. Preston.

“I will willingly take care of it for you, and allow you interest upon it.”

The transfer was made, and, carefully depositing the balance of the money in his pocketbook, our hero took leave of his friend and sought the house in Amity street.