Andy Gordon; Or, The Fortunes of A Young Janitor

Andy forced himself to seem uninterested, and George White dropped the subject, concluding that he was mistaken.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.

A WICKED COMPACT.

He at was present a fugitive from justice, having recently made an attempt to enter a house in Brooklyn, and failed, through the wakefulness of a member of the household.

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett and George White sat in a conclave together one evening soon after his arrival. They were discussing the obstinacy of Simon Dodge in deferring to make a will in favor of his disinterested son-in-law.

“Can’t you persuade him to do it, Mr. Brackett?” asked White.

“I’ve tried my best, and failed,” said Brackett. “You see the old man’s dreadfully obstinate when he sets about it. It’s my opinion he’s afraid to make a will for fear it will hasten his death.”

“Maybe it would, if he made a will in your favor,” said White, with a knowing wink at his brother-in-law.

“George, I am shocked at you!” said his sister. “You shouldn’t say such things. Suppose father should hear you?”

“It might make him nervous, I dare say,” said White, coolly. “Seems to me you act like a couple of children, you two. If I were in your place I’d see that a proper will was made.”

“How would you manage it?” asked Brackett.

“How would I manage it? It’s the simplest thing in the world. Is the old man’s signature hard to imitate?”

“You don’t mean——” ejaculated Brackett, looking about him nervously.

“Yes, I do.”

“But it would be forgery, and that is a serious offense.”

“Nothing venture, nothing have!” said White, boldly. “The property ought to come to you and my sister. You agree to that, don’t you?”

“Of course it ought,” said Mr. Brackett. “Haven’t we done everything for father, and slaved for his comfort?”

“Just so! And you ought to be rewarded. It’s a very simple thing, as I have already said,” continued White, shaking the ashes from his pipe.

Mr. Brackett was a little startled, but was not shocked. His morality was not of a high order, and he shrank from forgery only because it was a penal offense. He felt a little curious to inquire into the details of his brother-in-law’s plan.

“Supposing I agreed to it,” he said, cautiously, “I haven’t any skill in imitating writing. I couldn’t write a will that would look like father’s.”

“Only the signature would need to resemble his handwriting,” said White. “I’m pretty good at imitating signatures myself,” he added, carelessly. “Have you got any of the old man’s writing?”

“Yes; I’ve got a letter here,” said Brackett, going to his desk and producing one from a drawer.

“That could be imitated easily,” said White, after a casual examination.

“I’ll leave you two to talk business at your leisure,” said Mrs. Brackett. “I must go upstairs and look after the children.”

Her brother looked after her with a mocking smile.

“Lucinda’s sharp and cautious,” he remarked. “She thinks it best not to know anything about it, though she’ll be ready enough to profit by it. Come, now, Brackett, I’ve a proposal to make.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll draw up such a will as you think best, and sign and witness it.”

“That’s very kind of you, George——”

“Hold on a minute! You don’t suppose I’m so benevolent as to do all this without pay, do you?”

“I didn’t know,” answered Brackett, his jaw dropping.

“I’m not such an idiot, thank you! I must have a hundred dollars down, and a thousand dollars when you come into the property.”

“That’s rather steep!” said Brackett, disturbed.

“It isn’t enough; but you are my sister’s husband, and I’ll work for you cheaper than for anyone else. I’d charge anybody else at least twice as much. Well, Brackett, what do you say?”

“It seems a great deal of money to pay for an hour’s work. It won’t take you more than an hour.”

“You seem to forget there’s some risk about it. Such work as that you can’t measure by the time it takes.”

“Lucindy would never agree to such terms as that.”

“The more fool she! Didn’t you tell me the old man was good for over ten thousand dollars?”

“Yes; he must have at least as much as that.”

“And I ask only a thousand dollars to give it to you.”

“Father might make a will himself, leaving it to us,” suggested Brackett. “In that case, the money would be thrown away.”

“You oughtn’t to begrudge it to your wife’s brother, even then,” said White. “Still, I’ll tell you what I’ll do. If you get the money by any other will, you needn’t pay me the thousand dollars. Isn’t that fair?”

This proposal struck Mr. Brackett favorably, and this was the compact ultimately formed.

Mrs. Brackett opposed it strenuously at first, being unwilling to relinquish so much money, even in favor of her own brother; but she was at last persuaded that it would be better to have nine-tenths of the property than none at all, and consented.

Several conferences were held, and the date of the forged will was carefully discussed. At length it was decided to fix upon a time six months earlier, and to affix the names, as witnesses, of two men who then lived in the village, but had now gone West, and were not likely to return. Indeed, it was reported that one of them was dead, which, of course, would make it impossible for him to deny his signature.

One evening it chanced that Andy, who had gone to the village, returned sooner than he intended on account of a sudden headache. In passing the window of the room where the conspirators were seated, he heard a chance word which arrested his attention.

The window, without the knowledge of Mr. and Mrs. Brackett, was slightly open, but this was hidden from view by the curtain, and through the aperture our hero had no difficulty in overhearing enough to satisfy him what was going on.

Of course his duty was clear. He must inform Mr. Dodge. The next morning an opportunity came. He not only told uncle Simon what his son-in-law was doing, but for the first time made him acquainted with the real character of Mrs. Brackett’s brother.

Simon Dodge was silent for a time from amazement.

“I didn’t think it possible,” he said, “that Jeremiah Brackett would stoop to such a crime.”

“I believe it is Mr. White who has put him up to it,” said Andy.

“Perhaps you are right. At any rate, this confirms me in my resolution to go away. Next week, Henry, we will leave the old farm, where I have spent so many years, and in your mother’s house I will spend the short time that remains to me.”

“I am glad to hear you say so, Uncle Simon. I shall be very glad to get away myself.”

“It is no longer safe for me to stay here,” said the old man. “Once this will is forged, they will be impatient for me to die. As for their wicked scheming, it will avail them nothing. My true will is made, and in the hands of my lawyer, and is later than the date they have selected for the pretended one.”

It was well that Mr. Dodge could not foresee the trying experience that awaited him before he could sunder the bonds that bound him to the old farm.

CHAPTER XXXIX.

A CUNNING PLOT.

“Not so fast, brother-in-law,” he said. “You shall have this when I receive the hundred dollars. That was the bargain, you remember.”

“You don’t expect I’ve got a hundred dollars in cash, do you?” asked Brackett, disturbed.

“Then why did you agree to pay me that sum when I had done my work?” demanded White.

“I didn’t think you’d insist on it. I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll give you a hundred and fifty when the money comes in to me.”

“I am to have a thousand dollars then.”

“Of course; and this will make eleven hundred and fifty. Come, that’s a fair offer.”

“It may be, in your eyes, brother-in-law, but it isn’t in mine. I tell you I must have the money now.”

“Where do you think I can raise so much money?” asked Brackett, who underrated White’s penetration, or he would never have hoped to deceive him.

“Plenty of ways,” replied White, coolly.

“Your credit ought to be good for a loan of that amount, when you own a ten-thousand-dollar farm.”

“There isn’t anybody in town who has money to lend.”

“Must be a peculiar place, then. Is there a mortgage on the farm?”

“No.”

“Mortgage it, then, for a thousand dollars, pay me a hundred, and invest the rest.”

“I don’t believe Lucindy would agree to that.”

“I see that I shall have to tear the will up.”

“No, no; don’t do that,” said Brackett, hurriedly, extending his hand in alarm.

“I’ll wait till to-morrow, then, and you can think over the matter. Talk with Lucinda, if you like. If she’s wise, she’ll agree to my demands.”

Later in the day, George White found himself alone in the house. Mr. and Mrs. Brackett had gone to the village, taking the children with them.

“I think I’ll make a voyage of discovery,” said White. “I’ll see if Lucinda hasn’t got some money stowed away somewhere. It’s a great wonder if she hasn’t, for she’s of a very mean and saving disposition, and, judging from the table she keeps, she doesn’t spend all her income in pampering the appetites of her household.”

He went upstairs stealthily, and opened the door of his sister’s chamber. It was furnished like most bedrooms. Between the two windows stood the bureau, and to this George White instinctively made his way.

“Women always keep their valuables in their bureaus,” said White.

And his experience as a burglar qualified him to express an opinion on this subject.

Generally Mrs. Brackett kept the drawers of her bureau locked, but to-day, by some oversight, she had left a key in one of the locks.

This easily enabled White to search them.

In a corner of the upper drawer his quick eye lighted on a savings-bank book, and he opened it eagerly.

“Five hundred dollars!” he exclaimed, triumphantly. “So it seems my poverty-stricken brother-in-law is not so poor, after all. He won’t need to mortgage his farm to pay me my price. He and Lucinda were very cunning in keeping from me the knowledge of their savings, but it won’t work—no, it won’t work! He must draw the money out of the bank for me to-morrow, or I destroy the will.”

Just then a new thought occurred to White. Why couldn’t he take the book, forge an order, and draw out the whole sum from the savings bank himself? It tempted him, but prudence restrained him. It would be decidedly dangerous.

His sister and her husband were doubtless known in the next village, where the bank was located, and a stranger attempting to draw out money on their account would doubtless be subjected to suspicion, and probably be unable to accomplish his object.

“No, it won’t do,” White decided. “But I’ll suggest to Brackett where he can find the money to pay me.”

George White left his sister’s room, and a sudden impulse led him to continue his investigations.

It has already been said that he had been struck by Andy’s resemblance to some face he had seen before. It occurred to him after a while that the boy he resembled was the one who had baffled him in his attempt at robbery, on the highway, between Hamilton and Cranston.

But these towns were three hundred miles away, and it seemed far from likely that his brother-in-law’s hired boy had been in that distant locality so recently. Moreover, Andy had not appeared to recognize him—though, as we know, he had done so.

White had asked him questions, nevertheless, designed to draw out information on this point, but Andy had skillfully evaded them, without exciting his suspicions.

Still, White was desirous of learning something more about Andy, and it was with this object in view that he went up the attic stairs and entered the little room occupied by our hero.

Andy had no trunk, but there was an old dressing table in the room, containing a shallow drawer.

White opened this drawer, and curiously scanned the contents.

Andy had incautiously left in the drawer a letter received from his mother, addressed to the care of his friend George Tierney, and it was of course postmarked Hamilton.

“Hamilton!” exclaimed White, in astonishment. “Henry receives letters from Hamilton! Why, that is the place where the boy lived who balked me, and had poor Mike Hogan arrested. It’s the same boy, I’ll bet fifty dollars! I saw the resemblance at once.”

White opened the letter and read it through, and when he had finished, the whole secret was revealed to him.

He discovered that Andy was masquerading under an assumed name, that he was one of Simon Dodge’s Eastern relatives, who, doubtless, were in opposition to the interests of his sister and her husband.

“Well, here’s a conspiracy!” ejaculated White. “My sister has been cherishing a viper in her household, who is scheming to get possession of the old man’s property. Was there ever anything more vile and treacherous?”

And the professional burglar became virtuously indignant.

Then an expression of triumph lighted up his face.

“I’ve found you out, my boy, and I’ll put a spoke in your wheel,” he said to himself. “I’ve got a little score of my own to settle with you, my young friend, and don’t you forget it. Henry Miller, alias Andy Gordon, you’ll find that you are no match for George White. Now, how shall I revenge myself on him?”

A bright idea occurred to White.

He went back to his sister’s bedroom, took the savings-bank book, and carrying it up to the little attic chamber, put it in Andy’s drawer, but away back in one corner, where the boy himself would not be likely to see it.

“There’ll be lively times soon, I reckon,” he said to himself, complacently.

CHAPTER XL.

THE BRACKETTS ARE CHECKMATED.

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett got home about four o’clock. They had been talking over the proposal to pay White a hundred dollars cash, but had not been able to make up their minds to do it.

In fact, paying out ready money seemed as bad to Mrs. Brackett—whose mean, parsimonious disposition has already been referred to—as having a tooth drawn.

Indeed, I may say, confidentially, that she would have preferred to lose half a dozen teeth rather than part with a hundred dollars.

“We’ll put George off,” she said to her husband, as they were riding home. “We’ll pretend that we are trying to raise the money, but can’t do it. Perhaps he will get impatient and agree to take less. A hundred dollars is an outrageous price for such a small job.”

“So I think, Lucindy,” chimed in her husband. “Really your brother seems to me very grasping.”

“So he is, and very extravagant besides. He could squander more money in a week than we could lay by in six months.”

Of course they would not have dared to discuss the subject in presence of the children; but they had been left behind, with the exception of the youngest, two years of age, to spend the afternoon with some juvenile companions.

“It’s lucky George doesn’t know about our account in the savings bank, Lucindy.”

“If he knew of that, it would be impossible to get rid of paying the money.”

“Suppose he won’t give up the will without the whole amount down?”

“He will. It will do him no good, and if he keeps it or destroys it he won’t get a cent. I know he needs money, for he told me the other day that he was reduced to his last five dollars. If we remain firm, he’ll come to our terms.”

Mrs. Brackett spoke confidently, and felt so, but it was not long before she found occasion to reverse her opinion of her brother.

They found him smoking a pipe on the lawn, or grass plat, near the back door.

“Had a pleasant ride?” he asked, lazily.

“Yes, George,” said his sister. “What have you been doing?”

“Oh, killing time!” he answered, indifferently. “I have been thinking, Lucinda, that I should have to leave you very soon.”

“You mustn’t hurry,” said Mrs. Brackett; but she felt glad to hear that her brother was likely to leave her soon.

She did not relish having a free boarder, even if he were her own brother, and, besides, judged that they could drive a better bargain with him in that case.

“Oh, I didn’t expect to stay here very long,” said White. “But I can’t go without that hundred dollars.”

“Really, George, you can’t be aware how hard it is to raise money,” said his brother-in-law.

“Oh, yes, I can!” said George, smiling. “I find it deuced uphill work myself,” and he glanced knowingly at Mr. Brackett.

“I mean that I find it hard to raise it for you. You see, a hundred dollars is a large sum. If you’d be willing now to take twenty-five and the balance in installments—or, better still, when we come into our money—I think I could arrange it.”

“My dear brother-in-law,” said White, with a smile, “you do it well—very well, indeed. If I hadn’t been round the world a little, I dare say I should be taken in, and accept your statement for gospel.”

“I hope you don’t think my husband would deceive you, George,” said his sister, with dignity.

“Oh, of course not! Still, I find it is the general custom to look out for number one.”

“You always looked out for number one, George,” said his sister, bluntly.

“Yes I flatter myself I did; but to return to business. You seem to be at a loss to know where you can raise the hundred dollars, to which I am entitled for my services.”

“You are right there.”

“Then I will tell you where you can find it.”

“I wish you would,” said Brackett, by no means prepared for the reply that awaited him.

“It was simple enough, Jeremiah. Draw it out of the savings bank. You will have four hundred dollars left.”

CHAPTER XLI.

ANDY’S SECRET IS DISCOVERED.

Here was a revelation, indeed. Their important secret had been discovered, and neither knew what to say.

Mrs. Brackett was the first to recover her wits.

“Who told you we had any money in the savings bank, George?” she demanded.

“Nobody.”

“He only guessed it. He doesn’t know,” she thought. “I can deceive him yet.”

“I wish we had money in the bank,” she said; “but farming is a poor business. It doesn’t pay, and all that Jeremiah and I have been able to do has been to make both ends meet.”

“Lucinda, I admire your ready invention—or, shall I say, your ready forgetfulness of facts?” said her brother, with a provoking smile; “but you ought not to try it on me. You must remember that I have been around the world a little; I have a slight knowledge of men, and women, too. You have five hundred dollars in the savings bank, and you know it; and, what’s more, I know it.”

“Who told you?” demanded his sister, desperately.

A smile passed over her brother’s features, as he fixed his eyes on his sister’s agitated countenance, and answered, simply:

“I have seen the book.”

“Have you dared to go to my bureau drawer?” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, angrily.

“There it comes out!” said White, laughing. “No, I have not been to your bureau drawer.”

“Then, how could you see my bank book?”

“Then it seems you have one, Lucinda. So I thought.”

“I have a small account in the bank, I admit,” said Mrs. Brackett. “But it’s only a few dollars.”

“Didn’t I tell you I had seen the book? Why do you try to deceive me?”

“Then you have been to my bureau.”

“It isn’t in your bureau.”

“Then where is it? Have you got it with you?”

“No,” assured White, unblushingly. “But I know where it is.”

“Where is it?” asked his sister, nervously.

“I must tell you the story, and then you will understand how I came to find out about your deposit. That boy of yours, Henry Miller, I distrusted as soon as I saw him. I couldn’t place him, but I was convinced I had seen him somewhere, and that his character was bad.”

“Just what I always thought!” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett, profoundly gratified at hearing something to Andy’s discredit.

“Your instinct was quite correct, my esteemed sister. Well, this afternoon, being left alone in the house, I thought I would search Henry’s room, being influenced chiefly by missing a small amount of money a day or two since.”

“Did you find it in the boy’s room?” asked Lucinda, eagerly.

“No; he was too shrewd to leave money around. The young rascal has a long head, and, I must admit, is unusually smart. I didn’t find any money, but on opening the drawer of his dressing table, tucked away in a corner, I saw a savings-bank book. I thought it was his, but on examining it I discovered your name. Of course I opened it, and that is the way I found how much money you had.”

“But what could the boy want with the book?” asked Brackett.

“He intended to forge an order and draw some of the money as soon as he went to Jefferson.”

“He was to go there to-morrow with father,” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett.

“Just so! He’s in with the old man, and no wonder. Do you know who he is?”

“I don’t know anything beyond his name,” said Brackett.

“You don’t know that!” said White, triumphantly. “His name is not Henry Miller at all.”

“What is it, George?” asked Mrs. Brackett, eagerly.

“Prepare to be astonished. You have been harboring a traitor in your house. His name is Andy Gordon, and his mother is the niece of your father-in-law!”

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett stared at each other in consternation.

CHAPTER XLII.

HOW THE TABLES WERE TURNED.

“Of course,” continued White, “it is evident enough why the boy came here. He wanted to worm himself into the confidence of your father-in-law and deprive you of the property which ought to come to you.”

“It is shameful!” exclaimed Mr. Brackett, indignantly.

“It’s outrageous!” chimed in Mrs. Brackett, furiously.

“You would never have known of this conspiracy but for me, Lucinda,” said George White.

“No more we should, George,” said his sister.

“And yet you grudge me the small sum you agreed to pay me.”

“Jeremiah,” said Mrs. Brackett, her parsimony overcome by this consideration, “it is true what George says. We must manage to pay him the money.”

“If you think best, Lucindy,” said her husband, submissively; “but allow me to suggest that if it is true, and we lose father’s money, we shall be very close-pressed ourselves.”

“You don’t understand, brother-in-law,” said White, “that the theft of your bank book will blast Henry’s, or rather Andy Gordon’s, reputation, and consign him to a prison.”

“That will be one comfort,” said Mrs. Brackett, her eyes lighting up with malicious exultation.

“Moreover, when the old man finds out what a scamp the boy is, he won’t be very apt to make him his heir.”

“George, you’re a great man,” said Brackett, admiringly. “It takes you to find out things.”

“Thank you, Jeremiah!” said White, modestly. “You must remember that I have knocked about the world long enough to get my wits sharpened.”

“What shall we do about this matter? How shall we proceed? Shall we have the boy arrested?”

“I’ll tell you. Send for the old man and the boy at once. Then we’ll go upstairs together and discover the bank book in the boy’s drawer.”

“There’s one objection,” said Brackett, uneasily. “Father doesn’t know that we have any money in the savings bank.”

“And you didn’t mean that I should know, either, Jeremiah,” laughed White. “No matter. Look out for number one. That’s my motto, and I can’t complain if it’s yours also. The old man will have to know now. You can explain the matter some way.”

Mr. Brackett went up to Mr. Dodge’s room and called him down, while Mrs. Brackett, with a stern frown, summoned Andy from the yard, where he was at work.

When all were gathered in the sitting room, Mrs. Brackett began.

“Father,” she said, “we have made an unpleasant discovery.”

“What is it?” asked the old man.

“We have discovered that there is a thief in the house.”

Curiously it chanced that neither Andy nor Mr. Dodge looked nervous, but each fixed his eyes upon George White.

“Well,” said Simon Dodge, after a pause, “who is it?”

“It is that boy!” said Mrs. Brackett, venomously, pointing to Andy.

Andy started, but did not look at all panic-stricken.

“Who charges me with being a thief?” he demanded, boldly.

“I do!” said George White, smiling triumphantly.

“Oh, it’s you, is it?” said Andy, contemptuously.

“How he brazens it out!” thought Mrs. Brackett.

“Yes,” she said, aloud. “My brother has found you out in your evil doings.”

“What is Henry charged with stealing?” asked Mr. Dodge, mildly.

Now it was Mrs. Brackett’s turn to look confused.

“Tell him, George,” she said.

“My sister’s savings-bank book,” answered White.

“So you have a deposit in the savings-bank?” said Simon Dodge, in a tone which rather disconcerted his self-styled daughter-in-law.

“Jeremiah and I, by great economy, had saved something,” she explained, hurriedly; “though we could hardly hope to keep it long, on account of our increasing expenses.”

“Suppose we go up to the boy’s room, and convince you all of his character,” said White.

“Lead on, sir!” said the old man, with dignity. “I shall not believe that Henry is a thief till I have the most convincing proof.”

“You shall have the most convincing proof, sir,” said George White, pompously.

Together they went upstairs, and filed one by one into the attic chamber occupied by our hero.

George White stepped up to the dressing table already referred to, and opened the drawer wide.

From the corner he drew out the savings-bank book.

“There!” said he, with a flourish, “what do you say to that?”

“What do you say to it, Henry?” asked Simon Dodge, kindly.

“That I never saw the book before in my life,” answered our hero, promptly.

“What a brazen liar!” ejaculated Mrs. Brackett, holding up both hands in a theatrical manner.

“Then how did it get there, Henry?” asked Brackett, thinking that the question indicated extraordinary sharpness. “It couldn’t get into the drawer of its own accord, I take it.”

“I agree with you, sir,” said Andy, not appearing so much overwhelmed as his questioner expected.

“Then perhaps you’ll be kind enough to tell us how it did get there, young man,” said George White, magisterially.

“I will, sir,” answered Andy, with the utmost coolness. “You put it there.”

“I put it there?” exclaimed White, looking around him, with a mocking smile. “My young friend, that is entirely too thin.”

“Oh, yes, Henry!” chimed in Mr. Brackett. “You can’t make us believe that story, you know.”

“I’d like to box your ears, you young slanderer!” exclaimed Mrs. Brackett, glaring at poor Andy, who, however, did not appear to be withered by her glance. “You’re a humbug, as well as a thief! You’re an impostor, and we’ve found you out.”

“How is Henry an impostor?” asked Mr. Dodge, mildly.

“His name is no more Henry Miller than mine is,” vociferated Mr. Brackett, furiously.

“How is that, Henry?” asked Mr. Dodge.

“Mr. Brackett is perfectly right,” said our hero.

“Yes,” confirmed Simon Dodge; “since you have found it out, I may as well introduce Henry Miller as my grand-nephew, Andy Gordon, of the town of Hamilton.”

“What do you say to your grand-nephew turning out to be a thief?” asked Mr. Brackett, triumphantly.

“What do I say? I say that it’s a lie!” answered the old man, unexpectedly.

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett stared at each other in dismay.

“He’s been detected in the act. The book was found in his drawer.”

“And that man put it in,” said the old man, with spirit, pointing to George White.

“How dare you say this?” demanded White, angrily.

“Because I have been in the house all the afternoon. I saw you steal into your sister’s room and presently emerge with the book. I afterward saw you go up with it to Andy’s room. The inference is plain enough.”

“I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Brackett, faintly.

“Perhaps you will when you hear a little more about this precious brother of yours. Andy, tell Mrs. Brackett what you know about him.”

For the first time, George White looked nervous and uneasy. Andy spoke without hesitation:

“The last time I saw him he tried to rob me of a large sum which I was carrying to deposit in the bank, three hundred miles from here. He was in company with an older man, who was caught, and is now serving a term of years in State’s prison.

“It’s a base lie!” said White, but his face showed that the charge was true. “The boy is accusing me to get off himself. Do you believe this shameful story, Lucinda?”

“Of course I don’t. The boy slanders you, George. Will you send for the constable and have the young rascal arrested?”

“As you please, madam,” said Andy, coolly. “I shall be able to prove my innocence.”

At this moment a loud knocking was heard below, and they hurried downstairs into the sitting room.

“Oh, it’s the constable!” said Mrs. Brackett, joyfully. “Mr. Peters, we were just going to send for you to arrest a thief.”

“Oh, you’ve found him out, have you?” asked Mr. Peters, looking rather surprised.

“Do you know anything about it?” said Mrs. Brackett in equal surprise.

“This gentleman gave me full particulars,” said Mr. Peters, pointing to his companion, a quiet man in black.

“Who is he?”

“Detective Badger, of New York.”

“I see the man I want,” said Badger, quietly. “George White, alias Jack Rugg, you are my prisoner!”

“No, it’s the boy you are to arrest,” said Mrs. Brackett, hurriedly.

“Pardon me, madam,” said the detective, “I know my man. Indeed he is well known to the metropolitan police.”

White tried to dash by, but unsuccessfully.

The detective brought out a pair of handcuffs, and, with the help of the constable, secured him.

Mrs. Brackett sank into a chair in consternation. She had had no idea of her brother’s desperate character, and was unable to utter a word. When the police authorities had carried away their prisoner, Mr. Dodge said to Mr. and Mrs. Brackett:

“After what has occurred, I decline to pass another night under your roof. Andy will go with me to the hotel, and I shall leave you to-morrow, to spend the remainder of my days in his mother’s house.”

“So this is what you have been plotting, is it?” asked Mrs. Brackett, her eyes flashing. “This is why this boy crept into our home under a false name and under false pretenses!”

“He came because I wrote to his mother, asking her to send him,” said Mr. Dodge, with dignity.

“He came to help me, and necessarily had to take a new name, in order not to excite your suspicions.”

“Your mind has failed,” said Mrs. Brackett, sharply, “and you have fallen a victim to designing people.”

“No, madam. My mind has not failed!” said Simon Dodge. “I have escaped the designs of your husband and yourself, to whom I have already been more liberal than you had any right to expect. What property I have left will go to this boy, who is my heir, and I recommend you to destroy the forged will, which you instigated your brother to write. Should you undertake to interfere with me, this criminal project of yours shall be revealed to the public. Come, Andy, go and pack your things. We shall not spend another night under this roof.”

Half an hour later a carriage drew up to the door, and Andy and the old man drove away, leaving Mr. and Mrs. Brackett utterly overwhelmed by the discovery of their nefarious plans.

CHAPTER XLIII.

BAD REPORTS ABOUT ANDY.

“As far as I can judge, it’s a rumor set afloat by Herbert Ross, who never liked Andy. He claims to have seen a paragraph—now you mustn’t mind it, for of course it’s a falsehood—implicating Andy in some crime—stealing, I believe.”

“It’s a base falsehood!” said Mrs. Gordon, her pale face flushing with justifiable anger.

“Of course it is; and I wouldn’t have spoken of it if the report had not obtained considerable currency. Don’t let it trouble you!”

“I won’t!” said Mrs. Gordon, with spirit. “It only shows the malice and meanness of the person who set it afloat.”

“I suppose one reason for such rumor is, that people are very curious to learn where Andy has gone.”

“Very likely. My anxiety is not at all about Andy’s behavior, but about his health. If I were only sure that he was well, I would feel perfectly unconcerned.”

“That is right, Mrs. Gordon. You look at matters in the right light. I was always very much attached to Andy, as I may some time show. Not many boys would have defended my house and money as bravely as Andy did.”

“He was always a good boy. I have never had reason to feel ashamed of him,” said the mother, proudly.

Just then there was a knock at the door. Mrs. Gordon rose and opened it. To her surprise she saw before her the tall, dignified figure of Rev. Dr. Euclid, who the reader will remember was the preceptor of the Hamilton Academy.

Mrs. Gordon had a high respect for Dr. Euclid, and welcomed him cordially.

“I am glad to see you, Dr. Euclid,” said she. “Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you, Mrs. Gordon; I will come in for five minutes, but I cannot tarry long. When did you hear from your son, Andy?”

“Not for two weeks—or nearly two weeks.”

“He was well?” questioned the doctor.

“Quite well, then; but I am feeling somewhat anxious about him now, on account of the delay of letters.”

“Don’t let that trouble you. Letters often miscarry.”

“I understand,” said Mrs. Gordon, “that some malicious person is spreading slanderous reports about Andy. Have you heard anything of the kind, Dr. Euclid?”

“Yes, Mrs. Gordon; but I did not give one moment’s credence to them.”

“Can you tell me anything about the nature of the reports?”

“It appears that in some paper was published a paragraph touching a certain Andrew Gordon, who was charged with stealing a sum of money from his employer, but it was expressly stated that he was twenty-five years of age. Andy has ill-wishers, however, who, overlooking this circumstance, have been glad to report that he was in trouble.”

“It is contemptible!” said Miss Susan Peabody, warmly.

“So it is, my dear Miss Peabody,” said Dr. Euclid. “Andy was my favorite pupil, and I will stake my own reputation on his honor and honesty.”

“Who is most active in circulating this report?” asked the widow.

“I suspect my pupil, Herbert Ross, who never liked your son, has been active in the matter. He is a selfish, purse-proud idle boy, and Andy is worth half a dozen of him.”

“Who is speaking so well of Andy?” asked a young, fresh voice, the sound of which startled all three.

Immediately the door was thrown open, and Andy himself, closely followed by a weak, old man, entered the room.

“Andy, my dear boy!” exclaimed his mother, and folded him with inexpressible joy, in her arms.

“Mother, this is Uncle Simon Dodge,” said our hero, when the first greeting was over. “Won’t you give him a welcome?”

“Uncle Simon,” said Mrs. Gordon, cordially, “I am glad to see you. If you are willing to share our humble home you may consider yourself now at home.”

“It is my strongest wish,” said the old man, with beaming face.

Here Andy introduced his uncle to Miss Peabody and Dr. Euclid, who gave him a friendly greeting, and expressed a wish to know him better.

“It is well you have come, Andy,” said Miss Peabody, “to quiet the reports that are circulating about you.”

“What are they?” asked Andy.

“It is said you have stolen a large sum of money, and I presume you are supposed to be in jail.”

“Then I’ll show myself in the village this evening,” said Andy, laughing, “to satisfy my good friends that there’s a mistake. Was Herbert Ross very sorry to hear it?”

“I believe he has been one of the most active in spreading the report.”

“Poor Herbert! How disappointed he will be!” said Andy, laughing good-naturedly.

CHAPTER XLIV.

CONCLUSION.

“It looks like it, doesn’t it?”

“I thought you had got into trouble?” said Herbert. “How did you manage to get out of it?”

Andy laughed.

“I hear,” he said, “that some of my good friends have been circulating bad reports about me. It’s a pity to spoil their enjoyment, but it’s another person entirely who has misbehaved himself. As I am not twenty-five, I don’t see how anyone should think it was I.”

“That might be a mistake, you know. The name was Andrew Gordon.”

“Then I wish Andrew Gordon would change his name. I assure you, Herbert, I have no intention of taking up the business of stealing.”

“You’d better not,” said Herbert, stiffly, feeling rather suspicious that Andy was laughing at him.

“Did you make any money when you were away?” asked Herbert.

“Oh, yes! I got a situation directly.”

“Was the pay good?”

“Fifty cents a week and my board,” answered Andy, gravely.

Herbert sniffed scornfully.

“You’d better have stayed at home,” he said.

“I don’t know about that. I am well satisfied with the success of my journey.”

“You can’t be janitor again!” said Herbert, triumphantly.

“Why not?”

“Another boy got it, and Dr. Euclid won’t put him out, just to oblige you.”

“I am not a candidate for the position of janitor,” said Andy.

“Don’t you mean to go to school, then?”

“Oh, yes! I want to continue my education,” said Andy.

“You know enough already for a poor boy.”

“Thank you for the compliment!”

“You’d better get a place somewhere to work.”

“Thank you! But, as I propose to go to college, I shall go back to the academy.”

“Go to college! How can you go to college? Why, you haven’t a cent!”

“I can’t stop to explain, Herbert. But you’ll hear before long.”

Herbert did hear, and so did the whole village, that Andy had brought back with him a rich uncle, who was credited with being worth fifty thousand dollars.

We know that this is not true, but rumor is prone to exaggerate the extent of a man’s fortune.

It was, moreover, reported—and this on good authority—that Andy was to be his uncle’s heir.

It is surprising how much his social importance, and that of his mother, were enhanced by this fact. Even those who had credited the story of Andy’s being a thief were among the first to congratulate him; and Herbert Ross, disagreeable as the news was to him, gave up his sneers and became actually civil. Indeed, he would have become intimate with Andy, if our hero had encouraged him to be so.

The little cottage proved too small and inconvenient, now that the widow had another inmate, and Mr. Dodge bought a handsome house opposite that of Lawyer Ross, from a manufacturer about to leave town, and with it the furniture, both of which he got at an excellent bargain.

Andy went back to school, and soon made up what he had lost by absence. He was no longer janitor, but he was never ashamed to speak of the time in which he had filled that office.

It never rains but it pours. When the Misses Peabody died it turned out that they left their entire property to Andy, having no near relatives to bequeath it to.

He is recognized as the heir of Mr. Dodge, who is still living in comfortable enjoyment of life at the age of eighty, and so our young hero is likely to have no pecuniary anxieties.

As I write, he is a member of the senior class at Yale College, and holds a distinguished rank among his class-mates.

Herbert Ross is in the same class, but he drags along near the foot, and seems likely to confer little credit upon his alma mater.

Andy will study law, and we may fairly expect a credible, perhaps brilliant, position for the young man whose early poverty compelled him to fill the position of a janitor.

A few words about some of our subordinate characters and our story ends.

Mr. and Mrs. Brackett were terribly mortified by the disastrous issue of their unlawful designs. They understood that they had overreached themselves, and they will always remain discontented and unhappy.

It leaked out in their town that Mrs. Brackett’s brother was confined in State’s prison for burglary, and this was by no means agreeable. George White would not receive a very cordial welcome now at the farm.

Joshua Starr was found dead one day in his barn. The property which he had accumulated by miserly ways and unscrupulous dealings, went to a cousin whom he hated. Was his life worth living?

Mike Hogan and George White are still boarding in a State institution, where they are likely to remain till the end of their term, though they would willingly relieve the State of the burden of their maintenance.

Rev. Dr. Euclid, honored and respected as of old, still remains principal of Hamilton Academy. He follows with strong interest the career of Andy Gordon, the greatest favorite among the hundreds of pupils whom he has had under his instruction, and he confidently predicts for him a brilliant future. May his prediction be fulfilled.

THE END.