"I shall invite him to accompany me to Bar Harbor on my yacht. But first we must call on the harbor police, as our testimony will be needed to convict the rascals who came near robbing me of five thousand dollars' worth of valuables."
CHAPTER XXX. JED ENTERTAINS AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE.
Though the trial of the harbor thieves was expedited, it was a week before Jed and Mr. Roper were able to leave New York. Jed's testimony settled the matter, and the two thieves were sentenced to terms of five years' imprisonment.
"I'll get even with you yet, young fellow!" muttered the sallow-faced man, eyeing Jed with deep malignity as he left the witness-box.
"Where is your trunk?" asked Mr. Roper after their first visit to the office of the harbor police.
"I never owned one, Mr. Roper."
"Your valise, then."
"It is at a small hotel near the Battery."
"Get it and bring it on board the yacht."
Jed did so, and Mr. Roper asked to see it.
"You are poorly equipped, Jed," he said. "That reminds me that if I am going to monopolize your services I must pay you some salary. How will fifty dollars a month answer?"
"But, Mr. Roper, I can't earn as much as that."
"Perhaps not, but if I am willing to pay it, you can set your mind at rest. I will see that you are better provided with clothing, undergarments, et cetera. Here, give me a piece of paper."
Mr. Roper drew up a list of articles which he thought Jed might need—a very liberal list, by the way—and sent him with a note to his own tradesmen, with directions to supply him with such articles as he might select. He also gave him an order on his own tailor for a suit of clothes.
"But, Mr. Roper, it will take me a long time to pay for all these out of my wages," protested Jed.
Schuyler Roper laughed.
"My dear boy," he said, "I haven't the least idea of making you pay for them. Just look upon me as your older brother, who is able and willing to provide for you."
"I am deeply grateful to you, Mr. Roper," responded Jed earnestly. "I certainly stumbled into luck when I boarded your yacht."
"I don't know how it is," said Roper, as he eyed Jed thoughtfully, "you didn't seem a stranger to me even when I first saw you. It seemed natural for me to look after you. I am an only son, and you never knew what it was to have a brother. I begin to think that I have lost a great deal in being so much alone."
"You may be deceived in me, Mr. Roper. You know very little of me, and that is not at all to my advantage."
"Well, I admit that, Jed. Considering that I caught you in the act of robbing me, I may be said to have known you at your worst."
"You know nothing of my past life."
"You shall tell me all about it after a while, when we are not so busy."
Meanwhile Jed became familiar with his duties on board the yacht, and during the absence of Mr. Roper was regarded by the men as his representative.
No one could have treated him with more generous confidence than his new friend. Jed was intrusted at times with considerable sums for disbursements, and was proud of the confidence reposed in him. Of Mr. Roper, except that he appeared to be a rich young man, he knew next to nothing, till one day he fell in with his watering-place friend, Howell Foster.
"You are still with Schuyler?" he asked.
"Oh yes, sir. I am going with him to Bar Harbor."
"And then?"
"I believe he means to keep me with him."
"You are in luck. Schuyler is a generous, open-hearted young man, liberal to a fault, and ready to do anything for one he takes to. I suppose you know that he is rich?"
"I thought he must be."
"His father died two years since, leaving him half a million of dollars. He spends freely, but does not squander his money. He is paying for the college education of a poor boy in whom he feels an interest—the son of an old bookkeeper of his father's—as I happen to know. He is a favorite in society, but has never shown an inclination to marry."
"Is his mother living?" asked Jed.
"No; she died before his father. He is very much alone in the world."
"That is why he is so generous to me, I think."
"Perhaps so, but it is his nature to be kind. By the way, Jed, when my family comes back from Sea Spray I would like to have you call upon us. We live on Madison Avenue."
"Thank you, Mr. Foster. If I am in New York I shall be glad to do so."
"I begin to think I am getting into society," thought Jed. "It is not over three months since I left the Scranton poorhouse, and here I am adopted by one rich man and welcomed at the house of another."
It was natural that Jed should feel elated by his good luck. But he was not allowed to forget his early adversity, for on the fourth day after entering the service of Mr. Roper he met on Broadway, just above Chambers Street, his old enemy, Percy Dixon.
Percy was the first to recognize him.
"Oh it's you, is it?" he said in considerable surprise.
Jed smiled. He felt that he could afford to disregard Percy's impertinence.
"My dear friend Percy," he said. "How well you remember me!"
"Yes, I remember you, and so does Mr. Fogson of the Scranton poorhouse."
"Remember me to the kind old man!" said Jed comically.
"How soon are you going back?"
"Not very soon. Of course it would be pleasant to me to be able to see you every day, Percy, but——"
"You needn't flatter yourself that I would take any notice of you. What are you doing for a living?"
"I am going yachting in a few days."
"What! Oh, I understand. You have hired out as a sailor."
"Well no, not exactly."
"What yacht are you working on?"
"Perhaps you would like to visit it?"
"Yes, I would," said Percy, feeling puzzled and curious.
"Come to the Battery with me, then. We'd better board the next car."
Percy followed Jed into a Broadway car, and Jed, to his surprise, paid the fare.
"I was going to pay the fare," said Percy.
"Oh never mind!" returned Jed carelessly.
"I don't want to put you to expense."
"Oh! it's not worth minding."
Arrived at the Battery, Jed called a boatman and said, "Row me out to the Juno, beyond Governor's Island."
Jed leaned back in the boat, and Percy stared at him in wonder. When they reached the yacht one of the men produced a ladder, and Jed led the way on board.
"Any orders, Mr. Gilman?" asked the sailor respectfully.
"No, Kimball; I haven't seen Mr. Roper since morning, and don't know if he wants anything done."
"Do you think you can spare me to go on shore for a couple of hours?"
"Yes, you may go."
Jed went to the side and said to the boatman, "You may take this man on shore, and come back in an hour and a half for my friend and myself.
"Now, Percy, allow me to offer you a little refreshment."
Jed went to the pantry and brought out some cold meat, bread and butter, and two bottles of ginger ale, with the necessary dishes.
"I can't offer you anything very tempting," he said, "but the boat ride may have given you an appetite for plain fare."
Percy could hardly conceal his surprise. He stared at Jed as if fascinated.
"Won't you get into trouble by making so free with your master's things?"
"Who told you I had a master?"
"Who owns this yacht?"
"Mr. Schuyler Roper."
"He must be rich."
"I hear that he is worth half a million dollars," said Jed in an off-hand manner.
"And how did you get in with him?" asked Percy rather enviously.
"It was an accident," answered Jed, by no means disposed to tell Percy the particulars of his first meeting with Mr. Roper.
"Suppose he should come now, what would he say to your making so free?"
"That he was glad to have me entertain my friends."
"You seem to be pretty sure of your footing with him."
"I have reason to be. He tells me to look upon him as an older brother."
"He may find you out some time," suggested Percy with disagreeable significance.
"What do you mean?"
"He may find out that his younger brother was raised in a poorhouse."
"I have no doubt he will learn it if he gets acquainted with you."
"What do you mean?" asked Percy coloring.
"That you would probably tell him. By the way, has Mr. Holbrook got home from Chicago yet?"
"I believe not. Do you expect he will take you back?"
"No; I prefer my present position. I shall probably sail for Bar Harbor with Mr. Roper on Saturday."
"It's strange how you've got on since you left the poorhouse," said Percy uncomfortably.
"Yes; I think even you will agree that I did well to leave it."
"Your luck may turn," added Percy hopefully.
"Perhaps it will, but I hope not."
Presently the boatman came back, and Jed sent Percy back to the city, paying the boatman in advance.
"It beats all how that pauper gets along!" reflected Percy, but from his expression the reflection gave him no pleasure.
CHAPTER XXXI. JED RETURNS GOOD FOR EVIL.
In the short time before the Juno left for Bar Harbor, Schuyler Roper became quite intimate with Jed. There was never a trace of condescension in his manner to his boy friend, but Jed was always treated as if in birth and position he was the equal of the young patrician. Together they walked about the city, and frequently dined together, always at some expensive hotel or restaurant.
"What time is it, Jed?" asked Mr. Roper one day as they were passing the Star Theatre.
"I am afraid I left my watch at home," answered Jed, smiling.
"Then we shall have to supply its place."
Schuyler Roper turned the corner of Fourteenth Street, and led the way to Tiffany's well-known establishment on the corner of Fifteenth Street and Union Square.
"Let us see some gold watches," he said to a salesman.
A tray of handsome timepieces was produced.
"How expensive a watch would you like, sir? Is it for yourself?"
"No, for this young gentleman. Look over these watches, Jed, and see what one you like best."
Jed made choice of a very neat gold watch with a handsome dial.
"What is the price?" asked Mr. Roper.
"A hundred and twenty-five dollars."
Jed opened his eyes wide in astonishment. A hundred and twenty-five dollars seemed to him a very large sum, and so unaccustomed was he to expensive jewelry that he had not known that there were any watches so costly.
"Very well; we will take it. Show me some gold chains."
Choice was made of a fifty-dollar gold chain. It was attached to the watch, and Mr. Roper, handing it to Jed, said, "Put it in your pocket."
"Do you really mean the watch and chain for me?" asked Jed, almost incredulous.
"Certainly."
"How can I thank you, Mr. Roper?" said Jed gratefully.
"My dear boy," rejoined Roper kindly, "I want your appearance to do me credit. That you will do me credit I feel confident."
It was about this time that Jed met an old acquaintance—one whom he had no reason to remember with kindly feelings. He had occasion to go across Cortlandt Street ferry, when on board the boat he saw in front of him a figure that seemed familiar. He walked forward till he could see the face of the young man to whom it belonged. Then it flashed upon him that it was Maurice Graham, the young man who had invited him to his room on Twenty-Seventh Street and robbed him of his small stock of money.
Now that the tide had turned, Jed did not feel so incensed against the fellow as at first. Still he determined to let him understand that he knew exactly how he had been swindled.
He touched Graham on the shoulder, and the young man wheeled round with an apprehensive look, which he did not lose when he saw and recognized Jed.
"Did you touch me?" he asked, with an evident intention of ignoring Jed's acquaintance.
"Yes, Mr. Graham. We parted rather suddenly, you remember," said Jed significantly.
"Oh, I see. You are——"
"Jed Gilman."
"I was wondering what became of you. I was called up town to the house of a sick friend that evening, and when I went back the next day Mrs. Gately told me you had gone away."
"Indeed! Did she tell you that I was robbed of thirty-five dollars during the night, and that I awoke penniless?"
"No," answered Graham faintly. "I am surprised."
"I thought you might be. Are you in the habit of borrowing money from people who are asleep?"
"What do you mean? You don't think I took the money?"
"Yes, I think you did."
"Why, didn't I tell you that I spent the night with a sick friend in—in Eighty-Seventh Street. How could I rob you?"
"You came back during the evening and found me asleep."
"That's a mistake!" said Graham quickly.
"It is true. Mrs. Gately let you in, as she informed me the next morning."
Maurice Graham looked very much disconcerted, and looked eagerly to the Jersey shore, which they were fast approaching.
"Do you know that I would have had no breakfast if Mrs. Gately had not taken compassion on me?"
"You don't look—very destitute—now."
"I am not. I have been lucky enough to find a good position. But that thirty-five dollars belonged to me. How much of it can you return to me?"
Maurice Graham colored and looked embarrassed.
"I—the fact is," he stammered, "I'm almost broke."
"Is this true?"
"On my honor I've only got a dollar and ten cents in my pocket, and I don't know what will become of me when that is gone."
"You have got rid of it very quick."
"I've been a fool," said Graham gloomily. "I spent it mostly on pool and drinks. Then of course I've had to live."
"But your situation——"
"I haven't any."
"Perhaps you will meet another boy from the country."
"I treated you awful mean—I know I did," burst out Graham, "and I've been very sorry for it. I've often wished that I had left you five dollars."
"Well, that would have helped me. But don't you think it would have been better to have left me the whole?"
"Yes, it would; but I am very unlucky."
"I am afraid you don't deserve good luck. Isn't there anything you can do?"
"Yes."
"Can't you find another broker to take you in his office?"
"I never was in a broker's office," confessed Graham.
"What was your business, then? I suppose you had some way of making a living?"
"I am a barber by trade, but I got tired of the confinement, and so I thought I'd become a sport. I started out with a hundred dollars which it took me a year to save up, and I got rid of it in two weeks. Then I fell in with you."
"And with my thirty-five dollars."
"Yes."
"The best thing you can do is to go back to your business."
"I would if I could."
"Why can't you?"
"Because my razors are in hock."
It is the custom of journeymen barbers to supply their own razors and a pair of shears for hair-cutting.
"I suppose that means in pawn?"
"Yes."
"When can you get a place if you get your razors back?"
"I can go to work to-morrow."
"What sum will get them out?"
"Four dollars and a half."
"Where are they?"
"In a pawnshop on the Bowery."
"Come with me and I will get them out for you if you will promise to go to work."
"I will," answered Graham earnestly. "I'll give you my word I will."
"Come back on the next boat, then, and I will go with you to the pawnshop."
"It will take up your time. You don't mean to give me in charge when we reach New York?" said Graham apprehensively.
"No; I am willing to give you a fresh chance. I hope you will improve it."
Jed took out his watch to note the time.
"Is that watch yours? It's a beauty," said Graham.
"Yes; it came from Tiffany's."
"Did you have it when I met you?"
"No; if I had, that would have gone the same way as the money."
"You must be awfully lucky!"
"I suppose I have been. At any rate I have been honest."
"Honesty seems to pay. I must try it."
"I advise you to," said Jed, smiling.
When Jed parted from Graham it occurred to him that he would call on Mrs. Gately. She had provided him with a breakfast when he needed one, and seemed kindly disposed towards him.
When he rang the bell of the small house on Twenty-Seventh Street, Mrs. Gately herself came to the door.
"Did you wish to see me, sir?"
"You don't remember me, Mrs. Gately?"
The old lady peered through her glasses.
"Why bless me!" she said, "if it isn't the young man from the country. But you're dressed so fine I hardly knew you. I hope you're prosperin'."
"Yes, thank you, Mrs. Gately. I have been quite lucky, but I was pretty low in spirits as well as in pockets when I left you."
"Why, you're lookin' fine. Won't you stay for supper? Luella Dickinson will be home soon—she that tends at Macy's. I've often spoken to her about you. Luella's very romantic."
"I am not, Mrs. Gately, and I'm afraid I can't stop. I must be on board my yacht in an hour."
"Your yacht! Bless me, you don't mean to say you've got a yacht?"
"Well, it belongs to a friend, but we enjoy it together."
"Have you seen the bad young man who robbed you?"
"Yes; I saw him this afternoon."
"You don't say! Did you have him arrested?"
"No; I helped him get some things out of pawn."
"That's a real Christian act, but I don't think I'd have done it. You deserve to prosper. I wish you could stay and meet Luella."
"Some other time, Mrs. Gately."
At supper the landlady told Miss Dickinson of Jed's call. Luella expressed great regret that she had not seen him.
"I should fall in love with Mr. Gilman, I know I would," she said. "Why didn't you ask him to call at Macy's?"
"I will when I see him again."
CHAPTER XXXII. AT BAR HARBOR.
About eleven o'clock one forenoon the yacht Juno came to anchor in the harbor of Mount Desert.
Jed gazed admiringly at the rugged shores, the picturesque village, the background of hills, the smaller islands surrounding the main island, like the satellites of a larger planet.
"It is beautiful!" he said. "I never dreamed of such a place."
"Yes," said Roper, "it is by far the most attractive island on the American coast. I think we shall find it pleasant to stay here for a time."
"I shall enjoy it at any rate," said Jed. "Where shall we stay?"
"I generally go to the Newport. It is one of the smaller hotels, but its location is excellent, being very near the water. Besides, I am expecting my aunt, Mrs. Frost, to arrive in a few days. She always goes to the Newport, and has the same room every year. There is the hotel yonder."
Mr. Roper pointed out a pleasant but unpretentious hostelry on the left of the pier.
"The large house farther up the hill is Rodick's," he said. "Rodick is an old name at Mount Desert, and the island just across from the wharf, separated by a bar, was once called Rodick's island."
The yacht was anchored, and Jed and Mr. Roper were rowed to shore. They secured rooms at the Newport, and walked up the hill.
As they passed the post-office Schuyler Roper said, "I will see if there are any letters awaiting me. There may be one from my aunt."
Jed waited at the door. Mr. Roper came out, holding a letter which he regarded with some curiosity.
"Here is a letter in an unknown hand, post-marked Scranton," he said. "I don't know any person living there."
"I do," said Jed. "It was my old home."
"Then why should it be addressed to me? It ought to have been sent to you."
"Will you let me see the handwriting?" asked Jed.
His heart beat a little rapidly, for he recognized the hand as that of Percy Dixon.
"I know who it is from," he said.
"Is it from a friend of yours?"
"No, an enemy."
"I don't understand."
"You will understand when you come to read it, Mr. Roper. It is from a boy whom I entertained on the yacht three days before we sailed for Bar Harbor. He has probably written you in the hope of injuring me."
"Does he know anything to your disadvantage then?"
"Not to the disadvantage of my character. But please read the letter, Mr. Roper, and then you will understand."
Schuyler Roper's curiosity was aroused, and he cut open the envelope. The letter, which was written in a schoolboy hand, read thus:
Dear Sir:
Though I am a stranger to you, I will take the liberty to write and let you know something of the boy who is travelling with you. He is not fit to associate with a gentleman like yourself, for he was brought up in the poorhouse in this place, and lived here till four months ago, when he ran away, and has been living since by hook or by crook. He has a great deal of cheek, and that is what has helped him to push himself in among people who are far above him.
Perhaps you may like to know who I am. My father, Squire Dixon, is a prominent man in Scranton, and is Overseer of the Poor, which makes him a sort of guardian of Jed Gilman. He could force him to go back to his old home, but the boy gave so much trouble, being naturally headstrong and rebellious, that he thinks it best to let him follow his own course. Probably Jed will some time apply to be taken back to his old home, as he is likely to be found out to be an impostor sooner or later.
I have taken the trouble to write you because my father thinks it very proper that you should know the character of the boy whom you have taken into your employ. When I was in New York lately he invited me to go on board of your yacht in order to show off. He made as free as if the yacht were his own, treating me to a lunch, and ordering the men around as if he owned the yacht. I couldn't help being amused, remembering that he was nothing but a pauper a few months since.
Excuse me for taking up so much of your valuable time. I have no ill-will against Jed, but I should think better of him if he would keep his place, and not try to intrude into fashionable society.
Yours respectfully,
Percy Dixon.
Jed noticed the face of Mr. Roper rather anxiously when he was reading this letter.
"Will it prejudice him against me?" he asked himself.
He felt that in that case he should indeed be depressed, for he had come to have a sincere attachment for his patron. He was reassured by the smile that lighted up the young man's countenance as he finished reading the letter.
"This letter appears to have been written by a great friend of yours, Jed," he said. "He is a great friend of mine, too, for he seems afraid that I shall be injured by associating with you, and so puts me on my guard."
"I thought as much," said Jed. "I suppose he tells you that I was brought up in the Scranton poorhouse."
"Yes; is this true?"
"Yes," answered Jed soberly.
"But how did it happen? Did your parents lose their property?"
"I know nothing of them, Mr. Roper. I was only two years of age when I was placed in the poorhouse. Mr. and Mrs. Avery were in charge. They were kind people and took good care of me."
"Did they never tell you the circumstances of your being placed in the institution?"
"No; but Mrs. Avery always promised that she would tell me all she knew on my sixteenth birthday."
"Are you not sixteen yet?"
"Yes; but when I reached that age Mr. and Mrs. Fogson were in charge of the poorhouse. Mr. and Mrs. Avery were removed by the father of this Percy Dixon who has written to you."
"What sort of people are they?"
"Mean, selfish and unkind to the poor people who are unfortunate enough to be under their charge. Mr. Fogson tried to tyrannize over me, and I rebelled."
"I can't blame you," said Roper.
"Finally I ran away, as Percy writes. It was high time I did, for I felt able to earn my own living, and was ashamed to be supported by the town, though I am sure I did work enough to pay for the miserable board I got at the poorhouse.
"When Mr. and Mrs. Avery were in charge I did not feel my position. It seemed to me as if I were living with kind friends. When they went away I realized that I was a pauper. Indeed, Mr. and Mrs. Fogson reminded me of it half a dozen times a day."
"So you ran away? What did you do first?"
"Perhaps you will laugh, Mr. Roper, but I became an actor."
Schuyler Roper looked amazed.
"But how on earth did you get a chance to go on the stage?" he asked.
"Through an actor whose acquaintance I made. He was playing in 'The Gold King.' The young actor who took the boy's part was taken suddenly sick, and they tried me. The manager seemed satisfied, and I played in it till the end of the season."
"There must be something in you, Jed, or you could not have met the requirements of such a position. Well, and what next?"
"I went to Sea Spray and was given the charge of a young boy, boarding at the Spray Hotel, by his father. I lost the place through the same Percy Dixon who wrote to you."
"How was that?"
"He informed the boy's aunt, in the absence of his father at Chicago, that I was only a pauper, and Miss Maria Holbrook discharged me at once."
"Do you think Mr. Holbrook would have discharged you?"
"I don't think so, for the boy was very fond of me."
"So am I, Jed," said Mr. Roper affectionately, "and I shall not allow young Dixon to separate us."
"Thank you, Mr. Roper," replied Jed gratefully.
"As to your history, you ought to know more of it. When we leave Bar Harbor I will let you go back to Scranton and obtain from the Averys all the information you can. You may get a clew that may lead to a discovery of your parentage."
"I hope so," answered Jed. "I don't like to feel that I have no relations."
"Meanwhile you may take this letter of your friend Percy's and answer it as you see fit."
A few days later Percy Dixon received the following letter:
My Dear and Considerate Friend Percy:
Mr. Roper has asked me to answer your kind letter. He appreciates your interest in him, but he doesn't seem to think that my company will injure him as much as you imagine. He thinks I shall enjoy myself better with him than in the company of Mr. and Mrs. Fogson, and therefore won't send me away. We are staying at the Newport House, and enjoying ourselves very much. If you come down this way call on us, and I will give you a good dinner. Tell Mr. and Mrs. Fogson not to worry about me, as I am well and happy.
Yours truly,
Jed Gilman.
"I never saw such cheek!" said Percy in mortified anger as he tore Jed's letter to pieces. "It is strange how that young pauper prospers. But it won't always last!" and this reflection afforded him some satisfaction.
CHAPTER XXXIII. THE POORHOUSE RECEIVES TWO VISITORS.
Let us change the scene to the Scranton poorhouse. Mr. Fogson has just come in from splitting wood. It was a task to which he was very much averse, but he had not been able to find any one to fill Jed's place.
"Drat that boy!" he said, as he sank into a chair.
"What boy?"
"Jed Gilman. He ought to be here at work instead of roaming round doing no good to himself or anybody else."
"Perhaps he would be glad to come back. I dare say he has seen the time when he didn't know where his next meal was coming from," rejoined Mrs. Fogson hopefully.
"I hope so."
"I don't know as I want him back," went on the woman.
"I do! He's good for splitting wood, if he ain't good for anything else."
At this moment a knock was heard at the door, and Percy Dixon entered the house.
"How do you do, Master Percy?" said Mrs. Fogson deferentially. "I am always glad to see you enter our humble house."
"We were just talking of Jed Gilman before you came in," added Fogson.
"I saw him two days since," said Percy.
"You did!" exclaimed Fogson eagerly. "Where was he?"
"In the streets of New York. You know I went to the city Tuesday."
"What was he doing—blacking boots for a living?"
"Not much! I wish he was. That boy is about the luckiest chap I ever set eyes on."
"What did he do?" asked Mrs. Fogson curiously.
"Invited me to go on board his yacht."
"What!"
"That's just what he did."
"He was bluffing. He wanted to deceive you."
"No he didn't, for I accepted his invitation and went on board."
"You don't say! Jed Gilman got a yacht!" exclaimed Fogson, his eyes almost protruding from their sockets.
"Well, I don't say it's his, but he acts as if it were. He hired a boat to take me out to the Juno—that's the name of the yacht, and it's a regular beauty—and took me on board and treated me to some lunch. He ordered the men about just as if he were a gentleman."
"Well, of all things!" exclaimed Mrs. Fogson, looking surprised and scandalized. "Did he explain how he came to have anything to do with the boat?"
"Yes; he said the owner had taken a fancy to him and was taking care of him."
"Did he say who the owner was?"
"Yes; it's Schuyler Roper, a rich young man living in New York."
"Well, what next?"
"I stayed on board an hour or more, and then went back to the city."
"It seems strange how that boy gets along. Mr. Roper will find him out sooner or later."
"I should say he would. I've written him a letter, and I brought it along, thinking you might like to hear it read."
So Percy read the letter already laid before the reader in the last chapter.
Mr. and Mrs. Fogson nodded delighted approval as Percy read his exposure of Jed's humble past.
"I do say that's about the best-written letter I ever heard," said Mrs. Fogson, as Percy concluded.
"Do you think so?" asked Percy with a gratified smile.
"Think so! I am sure of it. Master Percy, I had no idea you had so much talent. Did it take you long to write it?"
"Oh no, I just dashed it off in a few minutes," answered Percy carelessly.
"You ought to be a lawyer; you do express things so neat. Don't you think so, Simeon?"
"Yes, Mrs. Fogson. I always thought Percy a smart boy. But where are you going to send the letter?"
"To Bar Harbor. Jed said that they were going there in a day or two. I thought Mr. Roper ought to know what a low fellow he has with him."
"Of course he ought. You've only done your duty in informing him against Jed. When are you going to mail the letter?"
"To-night. It'll go off the first thing to-morrow morning."
"I'm very much obliged to you for letting us hear the letter, Master Percy. I expect it'll cook Jed's goose."
"Probably Mr. Roper will send him off as soon as he reads it. I'd just like to be there when it is read."
Percy left the poorhouse and went on his way to the post-office. He sealed the letter, first reading it over again to himself complacently, and inclined to agree with the Fogsons that it was a decidedly clever piece of composition.
He had hardly walked a hundred yards when he met a quiet-looking man of medium height dressed in a gray suit.
"Young man," said the stranger, "am I on my way to the poorhouse?"
"Well, sir," replied Percy jocosely, "that depends on your habits."
The other smiled.
"I see you are a young man of original humor. Is the building used as a poorhouse near by?"
"Yes, sir, that is it," said Percy, pointing to the forlorn-looking dwelling he had just left.
"Thank you, sir," said the stranger, and resumed his walk.
"I wonder what he wants," speculated Percy. "Perhaps he is a relation of Mr. and Mrs. Fogson. I wish I had asked him."
The quiet-looking man was soon at the outer door of the poorhouse, and knocked, for there was no bell.
Mrs. Fogson answered the knock, and surveyed the stranger with some curiosity.
"I believe this is the Scranton poorhouse."
"Yes, sir."
"And you, perhaps, are in charge."
"Yes, sir. Did you wish to see any of the paupers?" asked Mrs. Fogson, thinking that the visitor, who was inexpensively dressed, might be related to some of her boarders.
"First let me inquire how long you have been in your present position, Mrs.——"
"Fogson."
"Exactly, Mrs. Fogson."
"Me and Fogson have been here about a year."
The stranger's countenance fell.
"Only a year!" he repeated. "Who was here before you?"
"Mr. and Mrs. Avery; but the Overseer of the Poor thought there was need of a change, and persuaded me and Fogson to come here."
"Very obliging of you!" murmured the visitor. "Can you tell me how long Mr. and Mrs. Avery were here?"
"Fifteen years."
The stranger brightened up.
"They live in the village—in a small four-room house not far from the post-office."
"Thank you," and the visitor took out a note-book and wrote something in it. He stood a moment silent, and then said, in a hesitating tone, "Is there a boy in the institution named Jed Gilman?"
Instantly the face of Mrs. Fogson expressed surprise and curiosity.
"There was!" she answered, "but he's run away."
"Run away!" ejaculated the stranger, looking disappointed.
"Yes; he was a bad, rebellious boy. Me and Fogson couldn't do anything with him."
"It is very sad," said the visitor with a dubious smile.
"Do you want to see him particular?" asked Mrs. Fogson.
"Yes; I wished to see him."
"Has he got into any scrape?" asked she with malicious eagerness.
The visitor eyed Mrs. Fogson closely, and saw at once that she was Jed's enemy.
"That's about the size of it," he answered. "Of course as you are his friend you would rather not tell me where he is."
"Who said I was his friend? I'll tell you with pleasure. Percy Dixon came and told me only a few minutes since. He's probably at Bar Harbor, or he'll get there some time this week."
"Bar Harbor!" repeated the visitor in evident surprise.
"Yes; he's working for a Mr. Roper—Mr. Schuyler Roper. He went down there on a yacht. If you want to arrest him, or anything, you'd better go down there right off, for Percy Dixon has written to Mr. Roper that Jed was brought up in the poorhouse, and will probably get bounced very soon."
"Thank you very much for telling me, Mrs. Fogson. I am glad you have put me on his track."
"You don't mind telling me what he has been doing?" asked the lady.
"No; I might defeat the ends of justice by doing so."
"Just so!" rejoined Mrs. Fogson. "I do wonder what that boy's done?" she said to herself as the stranger turned into the public road. "Very likely it's burglary, or forgery."
CHAPTER XXXIV. THE DETECTIVE.
The man in drab smiled to himself as he left the presence of Mrs. Fogson.
"I wonder whether that woman's husband has her amiable traits?" he speculated. "If so, the Scranton poor must be made very uncomfortable."
As he reached the village he met Percy Dixon once more. Percy had an ungovernable curiosity, and he crossed the street to intercept the stranger.
"I suppose you found the poorhouse," he said suggestively.
"Yes; I could not miss it after your clear directions."
"Are you related to Mr. and Mrs. Fogson?" asked Percy, rather boldly.
"Well no," answered the stranger with a smile. "I haven't the honor."
"Have you any relations among the paupers?"
"Not that I am aware of. However, I called to inquire after one of them—a boy."
"Jed Gilman?" said Percy eagerly.
"Yes; I believe that is his name. Are you acquainted with him?"
"I have known him for years."
"I suppose he is a friend of yours?"
"Not much. Do you think I would be friends with a pauper?"
"I don't know. I see no reason why not if he is a nice boy."
"But Jed isn't a nice boy. He's an artful, forward, presuming young jackanapes, and was awfully troublesome."
"I am sorry to hear it. Mrs. Fogson seems to think of him very much as you do."
"I should think she would. She and Fogson couldn't do anything with him."
"Mrs. Fogson says he isn't there now."
"No; he ran away after making a brutal assault on Fogson."
The man in drab felt an inclination to smile, but suppressed it.
"I don't know as I ought to have spoken against him," continued Percy with a cunning look of inquiry. "You may be after him."
The man in drab paused a moment, then assuming a look of mystery, said, "Can you keep a secret?"
"Yes," answered Percy eagerly.
"Come here, then."
Percy drew near, and the other whispered mysteriously, "I am a detective!"
"You don't say so!" ejaculated Percy, gazing at him with a species of awe, begotten of his idea of detectives as introduced into books which he had read.
The other nodded.
"And I am after Jed Gilman!" he continued.
"Is that so?" said the delighted Percy. "What has he done?"
"That is a secret which I am not permitted to reveal at present."
"Do you want to find him?"
"Very much."
"Then I'll tell you where he is. He's gone to Bar Harbor—in Maine, you know."
The detective nodded.
"He went on a yacht—the Juno—owned by Mr. Schuyler Roper—a rich New York gentleman."
"But how did he get into such company?"
"Oh, Mr. Roper took pity on him and gave him a place."
"Then you think he is comfortably situated?"
"Yes, but he won't be long."
"Why not?"
"Because I have written a letter to Mr. Roper, telling him Jed's real character. I expect he'll be bounced when that letter arrives."
"That would upset all my plans and enable him to escape."
Percy looked perplexed and disappointed.
"I am sorry for that," he said. "I guess I'd better write again and tell him to keep Jed another week."
"Perhaps you had better do so. Say that—— But no. I will telegraph to him to keep Jed with him till I arrive."
"That'll do better. You couldn't possibly tell me what Jed has done?"
"Not at present."
"You'll let me know sometime?"
"I think I shall be able to gratify your curiosity before long."
"I'll give you my address, and you can write to me. I wish I knew whether Jed had stolen anything or not."
"I cannot say a word! My lips are sealed!" said the detective in a solemn tone.
Percy was impressed. The man in drab quite came up to his idea of a detective.
"By the way," said his companion, "I want to call on Mr. and Mrs. Avery, who, I understand, know something of the boy's early life."
"They live there—in that small house. I'll go with you."
"No, I prefer to go alone. One can't be too careful."
"All right," said Percy. "I wonder what under the canopy Jed's been doing? It's likely he'll have to go to jail."
CHAPTER XXXV. MRS. AVERY'S STORY.
The detective crossed the street, walked up a tiny footpath and rang the bell of the small house.
Mrs. Avery came to the door, a gentle-faced little woman with white hair. She looked inquiringly at the visitor.
"Mrs. Avery, I believe?" said the man in drab.
"That is my name."
"I would like the favor of a few words with you, madam."
"Come in then," and she led the way to a modest sitting-room.
"My husband," she said, introducing him to a kindly old man, as white-haired as herself.
"My name is Fletcher," said the visitor, "and I have come to you for information. But first, am I right in my belief that you were once in charge of the Scranton poorhouse?"
"Yes, sir. My husband and I had charge of it for fifteen years. We should have been there now, but for Squire Dixon, the new Overseer of the Poor, who wanted the place for some friends of his, Mr. and Mrs. Fogson."
"I have had the pleasure of seeing Mrs. Fogson," said Fletcher with a smile. "I am sure, now that I have seen you both, that the change was for the worse."
"I fear that the poor people are very shabbily treated," said Mrs. Avery gravely. "It makes me feel very badly, but what can I do? Squire Dixon sustains them, and he has everything to say. But you say you want some information. I shall be glad to tell you what I can."
"I want information touching a boy, now perhaps sixteen years of age, bearing the name of Jed Gilman."
Mr. and Mrs. Avery immediately showed signs of interest.
"He has left the poorhouse," said Mr. Avery.
"So I am told."
"Do you inquire as a friend of the poor boy?" asked Mrs. Avery.
"Emphatically his friend. But first tell me, what kind of a boy is he?"
"A fine, manly, spirited lad, warm-hearted and attractive."
The detective looked pleased, but surprised.
"That doesn't correspond with what Mrs. Fogson told me," he said.
"I suppose not. She and her husband tried to bully Jed and overwork him, till he was compelled to run away. I don't know where he is now."
"But I do. He is at Bar Harbor, in the company of a rich gentleman from New York, and I believe employed on his yacht."
"I am thankful to hear it."
"But what I wish to learn are the circumstances attending his being placed at the poorhouse. I suppose you remember them?"
"Oh yes, as well as if it were yesterday, though it is fourteen years since."
"Go on, madam, I am all interest."
"It was a cold evening in November," began Mrs. Avery reflectively, "and I was about to lock up, though it was but nine o'clock, for we kept early hours at the poorhouse, when there was a knock at the door. I opened it and saw before me a young woman of dark hair and complexion, holding by the hand a pretty boy of about two years of age.
"'Can you give me and my boy a night's lodging?' she asked.
"We often had such applications, and never sent away a decent-looking person. So I said yes readily enough and the two entered. They seemed hungry, and though it was late for us I gave them some bread and milk, of which the child in particular partook heartily. I asked the young woman some questions but she was very close-mouthed.
"'Wait till morning,' she said. 'The boy and I are very tired.'
"I asked no more but gave them a bed, and I suppose they both slept well. I was able to give them a small room to themselves.
"In the morning when I entered I found only the boy. The young woman had gone, but pinned to the child's clothing was this note:
"'I am obliged to leave the boy with you for the present. I hope you will take care of him. His name is Jed Gilman. Some time he will probably be called for. Don't try to find me for it will be useless.'
"That was all. Mr. Avery and myself were dumfounded, but we had taken a fancy to the boy and resolved to keep him. There was some difficulty about it, for he was not legally entitled to be brought up at the town's cost. However, Mr. Avery and I agreed to pay part of the expense for the first year, and after that he was looked upon as one of the regular inmates and cared for as such."
"And the young woman never called again?"
"Never."
"Nor sent you any message, oral or written?"
"Never."
"Was there any article of dress, or any ornament, left with the child that might help to identify it?"
"Yes. Wait here a minute and I will show you something which I have carefully preserved from that day to this."
CHAPTER XXXVI. "WHO WAS JED?"
Mrs. Avery went up stairs to her own room, but reappeared in five minutes. She had in her hand an old-fashioned gold locket.
"This," she said, "was attached to the neck of the boy when he came into our hands."
"Have you opened it?" asked the detective eagerly. "Is there a picture inside?"
"There are two miniatures—one on each side."
She opened the locket, and it proved to be as she said.
One of these was a miniature of a young and handsome man, apparently thirty years of age, the other of a young lady with a very sweet and attractive face, probably five years younger.
"These must represent the parents of the boy Jed," said the detective.
"So we concluded—Mr. Avery and myself."
"Does the lady bear any resemblance to the girl who brought the child to you?"
"Not the slightest. The girl was common in appearance. She probably filled the position of a servant or nursemaid."
"Did it occur to you that she might be in any way related to the child?"
"Not for a moment. He was evidently the child of parents wealthy or well to do."
"Did you form any conjectures relative to her or her object in bringing you the child?"
"No. There was nothing to serve as a clew. It was all guesswork on our part. Still the thought did occur to us that the child had been stolen or abducted from his people for some reason unknown to us."
The detective hesitated a moment, and then, having apparently made up his mind to confide in the worthy couple, said: "Your guess was very near the truth. The child, I have every reason to believe, was stolen from its mother—the father was dead—through the machinations of an uncle who wanted the boy's title and estate."
"Title!" exclaimed Mrs. Avery, in great surprise.
"Yes. This boy I believe to be the only son of the late Sir Charles Fenwick, of Fenwick Hall, Gloucestershire, England."
"Well, well!" ejaculated Mrs. Avery. "Then if the boy had his rights would he be Sir Jed Gilman?"
"No," answered the detective smiling. "He has no more claim to the name Jed Gilman than I have."
"What is his real name?"
"Robert Fenwick, as I have every reason to believe."
"Why has there been no search for him till now?"
"There has been a search covering all the intervening years; but the mother, who is still living, had no information to guide her, and the search has been a groping in the dark."
"And did the wicked uncle get the title and estate?" asked Mrs. Avery.
"Yes. He is enjoying both now."
"Is it a large estate?"
"It would not be considered large in England. Probably it amounts to five thousand pounds annual rental."
"Five thousand pounds!" said Mrs. Avery.
"Yes, or in our money about twenty-five thousand dollars."
"And this large estate ought to belong to poor Jed?"
"I submit that, if so, he will not need to be called poor Jed."
"And you say that the mother is living?"
"She is living, and in New York. She is comfortably established at the Windsor Hotel on Fifth Avenue. It is by her that I am employed. This is my card."
He drew out a small card bearing the name
James Peake.
"Yes. I am an American," he said in reply to a question by Mrs. Avery. "I am a New York detective, and was detailed for this work by Inspector Byrnes."
"What sort of a person is Jed's mother?" asked Mrs. Avery.
"Still a beautiful woman, though she cannot be far from forty years of age."
"Does she look like the picture in the locket?"
"There is considerable resemblance—of course, making allowance for the difference in the ages of the two. This locket, Mrs. Avery, is most important, and will, I think, establish the identity of Jed Gilman with the stolen heir of the Fenwick estate. Will you permit me to take it and show it to Lady Fenwick?"
"Has she a title, too?"
"Certainly. She was the wife of Sir Charles Fenwick."
"And what is the name of the wicked uncle?"
"Guy Fenwick. He is known as Sir Guy Fenwick, but probably, almost positively, has no rightful claim to the title."
"Does he know that you are looking for his nephew?"
"I presume he has taken measures to keep acquainted with all the movements of Lady Fenwick."
"I wonder how the girl came to give the boy the name of Jed Gilman?"
"I think I can explain this. The name of this treacherous nursemaid was Jane Gilman. She selected a name as near to her own as possible. You say you have neither seen nor heard anything of this girl since Jed was left in your hands?"
"We have heard nothing whatever."
At this moment there was a ring at the door-bell—a sharp, quick, impatient ring.
Mrs. Avery answered it.
She came back, her face showing excitement.
"It is a woman of middle age," she said, "and she, too, has come to make inquiries about Jed Gilman."
The detective also looked excited.
"Do you think," he asked, "it can be Jane Gilman herself come back after all these years?"
"That's it!" said Mrs. Avery, her face lighting up. "I wondered where I had seen her face before. Now, though she is so much older, I recognize in this middle-aged woman the girl who brought Jed to the door fourteen years ago."
"Bring her in here, hear what she has to say, and place me somewhere, so that, myself unseen, I can hear what she says."
This was what the detective said in a quick, decided tone.
"Very well, sir, go in there. It is a small bedroom. You can keep the door ajar."
The detective lost no time in concealing himself.
The woman came in. She was a stout, florid-complexioned woman, rather showily dressed, with the look of an Englishwoman of the middle class.
Before we proceed to record the interview that took place between Mr. and Mrs. Avery and herself we must go back again to the poorhouse, and our friends, Mr. and Mrs. Fogson.
Twenty minutes after the departure of James Peake, the detective, this woman knocked at the door of the poorhouse.
Her summons was answered by Mrs. Fogson.
"What's wanted?" asked the poorhouse matron, looking inquisitively at the new arrival.
"Is there a boy named Jed Gilman living here?" asked the woman eagerly.
"Jed Gilman again!" repeated Mrs. Fogson. "What do you want of Jed Gilman?"
"Answer my question first, if you please."
"Such a boy was living here till lately, but he became very troublesome and finally ran away."
"Then he is not here now?" said the woman, looking very much disappointed.
"No, but I expect he'll have to come back some time. A bad penny generally returns. You haven't told me what you have to do with him?"
"Then I will tell you. I was the person who brought him here fourteen years ago."
"You don't say so?" ejaculated Mrs. Fogson, her little bead-like eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Was he your child?"
"Certainly not, but he was my brother's child."
"And what was your object in bringing him here?"
"My brother was dead, and the child was thrown upon me for support," answered the woman after a little hesitation. "I could not support him, and so brought him where I thought he would have a home. But you are not the woman who was in charge of the poorhouse at that time."
"No; that was Mrs. Avery."
"And is Mrs. Avery still living?"
"Yes; she lives in a small house in the village."
"I will go and see her."
But this did not suit the views of Mrs. Fogson, who was curious to hear more about the antecedents of Jed.
"Won't you come in and take a cup of tea?" she asked with unusual hospitality.