CHAPTER XIII.
CLAYTON'S DISAPPOINTMENT
Josiah Onthank never for a moment doubted the good faith of the clever swindler who was dazzling him with the prospect of a fine situation for his son. He was a man well to do, and over and above his farm was easily worth five thousand dollars in bonds and money interest.
Still he was reluctant to part with a hundred and fifty dollars, for this seemed to him a good deal of money. Yet if it would secure his son a position in the city with a large income it would be worth while. At any rate he would lay the matter before Rupert, and ask his advice.
During the afternoon he had a chance to speak with the bell-boy.
"I've got something to tell you," he said.
"All right, sir."
"I've seen the young man I spoke to you about."
"Did he make you any offer?"
"Yes; he promised to give my son a place in his office at seventy-five dollars a month."
"Where is his office?"
"In Wall Street. It's big and fine. He must do a raft of business."
"He is very kind to give your son a place."
"Yes, but he wants a premium of a hundred and fifty dollars. That's what bothers me. A hundred and fifty dollars is a pile of money. What do you think of it?"
"If you could really get a place for your son at seventy-five dollars a month—a permanent place—it would be worth the money."
"So 'twould, so 'twould. Then you'd advise me to pay the money?"
"He wants it in advance, doesn't he?"
"Yes."
"Did you get into the office?"
"Yes."
"How do you know it is his?"
"He told me so," answered Mr. Onthank, in surprise.
"Is that all the evidence you have?"
"He went and spoke to one of the men—his cashier, he told me. You don't think there's anything wrong, do you?"
"I think, Mr. Onthank, the man is trying to swindle you."
"You don't say!" ejaculated the farmer.
"Have you given him any money?"
"No. Yes, come to think on't, I have. I gave him five dollars for a refusal of the place. He said another man was after it."
"You haven't lost much yet. If you should give him a hundred and fifty dollars you would lose it all."
"What makes you think so? He seems like a gentleman."
"My information comes from a private detective."
"Well, well, I guess I've been a fool," said the farmer, in a tone of disappointment and mortification. "What do you advise me to do?"
"I will consult with the detective first, and tell you."
The next day Clarence Clayton made his appearance. Though, not quite so sanguine as at first, he still hoped to carry out his original plan and obtain possession of the bulk of the farmer's money.
He found Mr. Onthank waiting for him in the reading room.
"Well, my friend," he said, "I presume you have made up your mind to secure a position for your son?"
"You don't think you could let me have it for less?" asked Mr. Onthank, who had been instructed what to say.
"I don't see how I can. Nor can I give you long to decide. The other party is waiting for me at the Fifth Avenue Hotel, and if you don't come to terms he will."
"You see it's rather a risk," said the farmer. "Suppose I pay my money and you don't keep your part of the agreement."
"You seem to be very suspicious, Mr. Onthank," returned Clayton, assuming indignation. "I am well known in the city as a man of the highest honor."
"Just so," said the farmer. "Still, I should like to have you give me a paper, agreein' to give Ephraim a position. Then I should feel safe."
"I see no objection to that," said Clayton. "I'll make it out here."
He sat down at the table, and in a few minutes handed Ezekiel Onthank the following agreement:
"In consideration of a hundred and fifty dollars paid to me by Mr. Ezekiel Onthank, of Orange County, New York, I hereby promise to give his son Ephraim a place in my Wall Street office, with a salary to begin with of seventy-five dollars per month. The engagement is to commence on the first of next month.
Clarence Clayton."
"Is that satisfactory, Mr. Onthank?" he asked.
"I reckon so," said the farmer, reading the document slowly. "Do you want the money to-day?"
"Certainly."
"Then I will go and get it."
Mr. Clayton leaned back in his chair in a pleasant frame of mind. He chuckled to himself as he thought of the ease with which he had imposed upon his rural dupe.
"Mr. Onthank thinks he is sharp," he soliloquized. "He may change his opinion after awhile."
The farmer did not keep him waiting long. He re-entered the reading room, but not alone. Richard Darke was with him.
Clarence Clayton started to his feet in dismay. He recognized the detective at once.
"Sit down, Mr. Clayton," said Darke, smoothly. "I see you have been doing a stroke of business with my friend, Mr. Onthank."
Clayton did not speak. He did not know what to say.
"Let me see the paper, Mr. Onthank."
The farmer handed it to the detective, who read it aloud slowly.
"You agree to give his son a situation in your Wall Street office? By the way, where is the office?" and the detective bent a penetrating glance on the face of the adventurer.
"I believe I made a little mistake," muttered Clayton. "Give me back the paper, and I will correct it."
"It is quite immaterial. It will do as it stands. You have not told me where your office is."
"I took him into it."
"Have you given him any money, Mr. Onthank?"
"I gave him five dollars yesterday."
"What for?"
"To get the refusal of the place."
"Very good. I see Mr. Clayton is a man of business. On the whole, however, I don't think you have got full value for your money. Young man, I will trouble you to return the five dollars to my country friend."
"I—I am afraid I haven't got it with me," said Clayton, uncomfortably.
"How much have you?"
After searching his pockets the adventurer produced two dollars.
"Will it be convenient for you to remain in the city and prosecute this man?" asked the detective, turning to the farmer.
"No—no. I want to leave town this afternoon."
"Then I am afraid we shall have to let him go. The three dollars you have lost you must consider paid for experience. If it makes you more cautious in future it will be well expended."
"So 'twill, so 'twill," said the farmer. "Much obleeged to ye, squire, for gettin' me out of a scrape."
"You are still more indebted to the young bell-boy," indicating Rupert. "Let me suggest that you can't do better than to offer him the money you have saved from our sharp friend here."
"I'll do better than that," said the farmer. "I will give him ten dollars. He has saved me from making a fool of myself."
"You see, Clayton," said the detective, "that it is better to be honest than a knave. The bell-boy has made more in this affair than you."
"Can I go?" asked Clayton, crestfallen.
"Yes, and don't let me see you here again. I shall have my eye on you, and the next time you won't get off so easily."
Clayton lost no time in availing himself of this permission. In sadness and disappointment he left the hotel, inwardly resolving never to enter it again.
"Why wasn't I satisfied with the five dollars?" he asked himself. "Confound that young bell-boy! He has spoiled my game. But for him I would be able to live in clover for a couple of months."
The farmer started on his return to Orange County in the afternoon. Before going he handed Rupert a ten-dollar bill.
The bell-boy was surprised. He knew nothing of Mr. Darke's recommendation, and did not expect such liberality from Ezekiel Onthank, whom he looked upon as a poor man.
"I don't think I ought to take it, Mr. Onthank," he said.
"You needn't hesitate, sonny. I can afford it. I don't wear as good clothes as the young sprig that tried to swindle me, but I ain't a poor man by no means. If you ever have time to pay me a visit in Orange County I'll make you welcome and see that you have a good time."
"Thank you, Mr. Onthank. If I should hear of a good situation for your son I will let you know, and I won't charge a hundred and fifty dollars for it, either. I haven't got an office in Wall Street, though."
"That was a good joke. That 'ere Clayton was a pooty smart rascal, after all."
"Ho, ho!" laughed the farmer.
"Shall you invite him to visit you in Orange County, Mr. Onthank?"
"I guess he wouldn't accept. We live plain, and he's a rich Wall Street broker. But we'll be glad to see you at any time."
CHAPTER XIV.
THE YOUNG NEWSBOY
Rupert had engaged a room on Bleecker Street. It is not a fashionable locality, but the time was when A. T. Stewart and other men of social standing lived upon it.
Rupert's room, a small hall bedroom, cost him two dollars per week. It was rather large for a hall room, and was clean and well furnished, beyond the average of such rooms in that locality. The house was kept by a widow, a Mrs. Stetson, a good, hard-working woman, who deserved a better fate than the position of a lodging-house keeper.
Usually Rupert reached his room about eight o'clock in the evening. He left the hotel at seven, and stopped for supper on the way. Arrived at his room he generally spent an hour in reading or studying (he had undertaken to review his arithmetic, thinking that some time he might obtain a situation where a good knowledge of that science might be needed).
He had nearly reached the house where he lodged on the evening after the departure of Mr. Onthank from the Somerset Hotel, when his attention was drawn to a boy of ten with a bundle of the "Evening News" under his arm. He was shedding tears quietly. Rupert had a warm heart and was always kind to younger boys.
He was touched by the little fellow's evident distress and spoke to him.
"What is the matter, Johnny?" he asked.
"I can't sell my papers," answered the boy.
"How many have you got left?"
"Twelve copies."
"How many did you have in the first place?"
"Twenty."
"Then you have only sold eight?"
"Yes, sir."
"So that you are behindhand unless you sell more. Have you a father and mother living?"
The boy answered in the affirmative.
"I shouldn't think they would let you go out selling papers so late."
"They are very poor," answered the boy, in a sorrowful tone.
"Doesn't your father work?"
"Yes, he works for Mr. Lorimer, on Third Avenue."
Rupert's attention was aroused. This Lorimer, as the reader has already been told, was his father's former partner, and, as Rupert believed, the cause of his failure.
"If your father has a position I should think he would be able to support his family."
"Mr. Lorimer only pays him five dollars a week," explained the boy.
"Only five dollars a week!" repeated Rupert, in amazement. "Doesn't he pay more to his other salesmen?"
"Yes, but he knew father was poor, so he told him he must work for that or leave the store."
Rupert was not altogether surprised to hear this, as he knew that Lorimer was a mean man who had no consideration for the poor.
"Where do you live?" he asked.
"In that big house," answered the boy, pointing to a tall tenement, one of the shabbiest on the street. "We live on the fifth floor, but I guess well have to move out to-morrow."
"Why?"
"Father hasn't been able to save enough to pay the rent."
"What rent do you pay?"
"Six dollars. Father has only got three dollars toward it."
"What is your name?"
"Harry Benton."
"Well, Harry, I am not very rich, but I can help you a little. I will take all your papers, to begin with."
The little boy's face brightened.
"You are very kind," he said.
"And now you may take me to your home. Perhaps I can think of some way to relieve your father."
"Come this way, then," said Harry.
Rupert followed him to the entrance of the tenement house.
"I don't know but you'll be tired going up so many stairs," he said. "We live on the top floor."
"I'm not a very old man yet," laughed Rupert. "I guess I can stand it if you can."
The halls were dark and dingy, and there was an unwholesome tenement-house odor. Through one open door Rupert caught sight of a drunken man lying prone on the floor. Evidently the occupants of the house were for the most part of a low class. But when Rupert followed his little guide into the home of his parents on the upper floor, he found respectable, and not squalid, poverty. There was an air of neatness pervading the room, while Harry's parents looked thoroughly honest. Mr. Benton gazed inquiringly at Rupert.
"I hope you'll excuse my intrusion," said Rupert, politely, "but your little boy seemed in trouble and I ventured to come upstairs with him."
"I couldn't sell my papers," explained Harry. "He took all I had left," indicating Rupert.
"You were very kind to my little boy," said Mrs. Benton, gratefully. "Won't you sit down? This is my husband."
Mr. Benton was a man of medium size. His features were worn and sad.
"Pray take a seat," he said. "We haven't many callers and fewer friends. We can appreciate kindness, as we meet with it so seldom."
"Harry tells me you are in the employ of Mr. Lorimer on Third Avenue."
"Yes."
"He says you are poorly paid."
"Five dollars a week can hardly be considered liberal," returned Mr. Benton, with a faint smile.
"Mr. Lorimer is a very mean man."
"Do you know him?"
"Yes. He was my father's partner in Buffalo."
"Your father is not in business with him now?"
"My poor father died. I have every reason to think that Mr. Lorimer swindled him out of a large sum of money, and brought on his financial ruin."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Benton, gravely.
"Does he pay other salesmen as poorly as he pays you?"
"There may be two or three others as poorly paid, but I think that he knew of my poverty and took advantage of it. At any rate he called me to the office one day, and told me that I must accept a reduction from eight dollars to five or leave his service. You can imagine how I decided. With my wife and child to be supported I had no choice. That was a month since, and my life has been a hard struggle from that time. I have been obliged to let Harry sell papers in the streets, though the poor boy cannot earn more than from ten to fifteen cents a day in that way."
"Harry told me that you would have difficulty in paying your rent."
"Yes," answered Mr. Benton, despondently. "We lack three dollars of the sum required, and our landlord is a hard man. I am afraid we shall be turned into the street."
"If you will allow me I will lend you the amount you need."
"But I am afraid I shall not be able to repay you."
"I will take my risk of that."
"Then I will not refuse. It will lift a burden from my mind. But how can you afford to be so kind? You don't look rich."
"I am a bell-boy in a hotel, but I am pretty well paid, and I received to-day a handsome present from a guest. It is because I am poor myself that I can sympathize with the poor. Besides, you have suffered from the meanness of the man who ruined my poor father. That alone gives you a claim upon me."
"I should like to know the name of my new friend."
"My name is Rupert Rollins."
"I shall remember it. I hope you will come to see us sometimes."
"I shall be glad to do so."
"Are none of your family living?"
"Yes, I have a mother and sister in Rutherford, a few miles from the city. They are pleasantly situated, and mother is earning her living as a housekeeper. But I won't intrude on you longer to-night. I will call again soon."
It seemed strange to Rupert that he should again be reminded of his father's old partner. Mr. Lorimer apparently had not changed for the better since he had removed from Buffalo to New York. He was the same mean, selfish man he had always been. Yet he seemed to be prosperous, while his victims were suffering the ills of poverty.
Rupert could not understand it. It was a difficult problem for him to solve. This is not surprising, for it has puzzled a great many older and wiser persons than Rupert.
"Well," he reflected, "I have parted with three dollars out of ten that Mr. Onthank gave me. But no matter. The three dollars will do more good to the Bentons than to me. I can spare it, and I would not care to have it back."
An idea came to Rupert. The hall bedroom which he occupied was lonely and not homelike. If he could only make his home with a refined family like the Bentons he would find it much more agreeable. If they, with the help of the eight dollars a month, which his rent cost him, could take a small flat, it would be a good arrangement all round.
At present there were difficulties in the way, as they were unable to raise even the small rent which they were paying now. Still circumstances might change. He resolved to keep up the acquaintance, and watch for some way of helping Mr. Benton to a better position. Even ten dollars a week would be a poor salary for a good dry-goods salesman, yet upon this he would be able to live comfortably.
Rupert had the curiosity to enter a drug store and look up the name of Mr. Lorimer in the directory. He ascertained that the dry-goods merchant lived on Lexington Avenue, between Thirty-fourth and Thirty-fifth Streets. This was a desirable location, and the house, as he afterwards learned, was a handsome, high-stoop residence, probably worth twenty-five thousand dollars.
But Rupert did not envy his father's old partner. "I would rather be poor and honest," he reflected, "than live in a fine house, surrounded by luxury, gained by grinding the faces of the poor."
CHAPTER XV.
MR. SYLVESTER'S BIRTHDAY
The next day Rupert received a letter at the Somerset Hotel. It was signed by Frank Sylvester, and ran thus:
"Dear Rupert: To-morrow is my birthday. Come and spend the evening with me. I will wait dinner till you come.
"Your Friend,"Frank Sylvester."
Rupert decided at once to accept the invitation. He had learned to like Sylvester, as indeed he had reason to do.
He was in doubt as to whether there would be much company, but he was not provided with a nice suit, so that he need not be ashamed of his appearance. Arrived at his friend's residence, he found to his surprise that there was but one other guest besides himself, a Mr. Maxwell, a stout, pleasant-looking man of forty-five.
"Rupert," said Sylvester, "this is my cousin, John Maxwell. He is not an idler like myself, but is a partner in a large dry-goods house down on Grand Street. John, this is a special friend of mine. When we first met he was able to do me a service which I shall long remember. I am rather young to adopt him, having only reached the age of twenty-five."
"Quarter of a century," laughed Maxwell.
"That sounds older, to be sure. At any rate I look upon him as a younger brother, and so have invited him here to my birthday dinner, as a relative."
"You don't seem to have many relatives, Mr. Sylvester," said Rupert. "I thought there might be quite a party."
"Most of my relatives live in the West. However, I am satisfied to have you here and my Cousin John."
"If you are Frank's brother, I suppose I am your cousin also, Rupert," said Mr. Maxwell.
"I shall feel proud to have you regard me so, Mr. Maxwell."
"May I ask if you are in the same business as Frank?"
"Doing nothing at all," laughed Sylvester.
"I am a bell-boy at the Somerset Hotel," answered Rupert.
He watched Maxwell to see if the revelation of his position would affect that gentleman's opinion of him.
"I hope you are well paid."
"Yes; I receive five dollars a week and my board."
"That is better than you would do with us."
"Mr. Maxwell," said Rupert, with a sudden thought, "I wish I knew you better."
"Why?"
"Because then I might ask you a favor."
"To enter our employment? I will take you if you wish, but I advise you to stay where you are."
"It is not for myself that I ask, but for an experienced salesman who is in very hard luck. He is working for Stephen Lorimer, of Third Avenue, at five dollars a week."
"Five dollars!" exclaimed Maxwell, in surprise. "And you say he is an experienced salesman?"
"Yes, sir."
"But why should he work for such low wages then?"
"Mr. Lorimer knew that he was poor, had a family, and was therefore in his power. He told him to choose between five dollars a week and dismissal."
"That is like Lorimer. He has the reputation of being the meanest man in the business. How did you become acquainted with the man you recommend?"
Rupert told the story, and both Sylvester and Maxwell were interested.
"I suppose you don't know Mr. Lorimer?" said Maxwell.
"I know him only too well," answered Rupert. "He was my father's partner in Buffalo, and was the cause of his ruin and death."
"Was the firm name 'Rollins & Lorimer?'" asked Maxwell.
"Yes, sir."
"Then I have met your father. I was for several years a traveling salesman, and sold goods to the firm in Buffalo. I always preferred dealing with your father. I didn't like Lorimer."
"I am very glad to meet any one who knew my father," said Rupert, brightening up.
"I can hardly refuse your request now, Rupert. Tell your friend—what's his name?"
"Henry Benton."
"Tell Mr. Benton to call at our store early next Monday morning and inquire for me. Give him a letter, so that I may know he is the right party. We are not taking on any salesmen, but one in the dress department is about to leave us and enter the employment of a firm in Chicago. I will put your friend in his place at a salary of twelve dollars a week."
"I can't tell you how much I thank you," said Rupert, gratefully. "You will bring happiness to a deserving family, and I don't think you will have occasion to regret it."
The dinner was an excellent one, and was enjoyed by the small company who partook of it.
"I must tell you, Rupert," said Sylvester, "that I have peculiar reasons for enjoying my twenty-fifth birthday, even if I have, as Cousin John expresses it, lived a quarter of a century. An old uncle left me fifty thousand dollars some years ago, directing that it should pass into my possession at the age of twenty-five."
"I congratulate you, Mr. Sylvester. I am sure you will make good use of it."
"I am not so sure of that, but I hope so. I have begun to make use of it already. You shake your head, Cousin John, but I don't think you will disapprove my expenditure. I have invested seventy-five dollars in a gold watch for Rupert, and thirty-five more in a gold chain."
He drew from his pocket a watch and chain which he handed to the astonished bell-boy.
"I don't know what to say, Mr. Sylvester," said Rupert, gratefully.
"Your face speaks for you. I want no other thanks."
"I don't know what they will say at the hotel. They will think I am putting on style for a bell-boy."
"I want some one to share my good fortune. I believe it is the best way to show my gratitude to Providence. As Cousin John has done something for your new friend, Mr. Benton, I will follow his example. Here are twenty-five dollars, which you may give him with my best wishes."
"This gives me even more pleasure than the watch," said Rupert, with radiant face. "I wish you could see how much happiness your gift will carry to a worthy family."
"I will call with you and make their acquaintance some day."
The evening passed pleasantly, and it was with a happy heart that Rupert returned to his humble home. That is, it seemed humble compared with the fine house in which he had spent the evening.
It was not until the next night that he was able to call on his friends in Bleecker Street.
He toiled up to the fifth floor, and knocked at the door.
There was a low "Come in," and he lifted the latch and entered.
He was startled to see that Mrs. Benton had been shedding tears, and her husband was leaning back in his chair, with a look of sadness and despondency.
"What is the matter?" he asked quickly.
"I thought we could not be any worse off," said Mrs. Benton, tearfully, "but I was mistaken. To-day Mr. Lorimer discharged my husband."
"What! in the middle of the week?"
"No; he is to leave on Saturday."
"But why is this?"
"I will tell you," said Mr. Benton. "Do you know Mr. Benton's son, Julian?"
"Yes; he is a very disagreeable boy."
"I got into trouble with him to-day. He interfered with me in my work, and I reproved him. The consequence is that he spoke to his father against me, and got me discharged."
"You can imagine what this means to us," said Mrs. Benton. "It was hard enough to live on five dollars a week, even with the help of the few pennies that Harry brings in, but now we must live on nothing. I don't know what will become of us."
"But Mr. Benton may secure another position."
"There is very little chance of it. No one is taking on new salesmen."
"Nevertheless Mr. Benton can go to work next Monday in a store on Grand Street at a salary more than double what he is now getting."
"Surely you are not in earnest?"
"Quite so. I will give him a letter to Gilbert & Maxwell, and he will be set to work at once."
"But this seems incredible."
"I will explain it to you."
"You are our good angel," said Mrs. Benton, when Rupert had concluded his account. "You come to us in our sorrow with the best news we have had for many a day."
"Now, Mr. Benton, I have a proposal to make. I want you to hire a nice flat in a better neighborhood and take me as a lodger. I am willing to pay you eight dollars a month. For twenty I think you can hire a desirable tenement, which will only leave you twelve dollars to pay."
"We shall be very much pleased to do so. If only we had a little ready money–"
"I came near forgetting something important. I am the bearer of a gift to you from a good friend of mine, Mr. Sylvester, of Harlem. Yesterday was his birthday. He has given me a gold watch and chain, and to you he sends twenty-five dollars."
Mrs. Benton's joy can be imagined.
"You have indeed proved a friend," she said.
"It is a satisfaction to me to feel that the malice of Julian Lorimer will be disappointed. If I see him to-morrow I shall not hesitate to give him a piece of my mind."