He clutched the boy by the collar, and, seizing a horsewhip, brought it down with terrible force on the boy's shrinking form.
"Let me go! Don't beat me!" screamed Humpy, in mingled fear and rage.
"Not till I've cured you," retorted Smith. Twice more he struck the humpbacked boy with the whip, and then threw him on the floor.
"That's what you get for contradicting me," he said.
The boy rose slowly and painfully, and limped out of the room. His face was pale, but his heart was filled with a burning sense of humiliation and anger against the man who had assaulted him. It would have been well for Smith if he had controlled himself better, for the boy was not one of the forgiving kind, but harbored resentment with an Indian-like tenacity, and was resolved to be revenged.
He crawled upstairs to the small attic room in which he usually slept, and, entering, threw himself upon the bed, face downward, where he burst into a passion of grief, shame, and rage, which shook his crooked form convulsively. This lasted for fifteen minutes, when he became more quiet.
Then he got up slowly, and, going to a corner of the room, lifted up a board from which the nails appeared to have been drawn out, and drew from beneath a calico bag. This he opened, and exposed to view a miscellaneous collection of coins, which he took out and counted.
"Twenty dollars and nineteen cents!" he said to himself. "I've been more'n a year gettin' it. That boy offers me fifty dollars,—most three times as much,—if I'll get him the tin box and help him to escape. I said I wouldn't do it; but he hadn't struck me then. He hadn't called me a villanous humpback. Now he's got to pay for it. He'll wish he hadn't done it;" and the boy clenched his fist, and shook it vindictively. "Now, how'll I get the box?"
He sat on the bed thinking for some time, then, composing his countenance, he went downstairs. He resolved to assume his usual manner, in order not to excite Smith's suspicion.
Smith had by this time got over his rage, and was rather sorry he had struck the boy so brutally, for he knew very well that Humpy might prove a dangerous enemy. He glanced at Humpy's face when he came downstairs, but saw nothing unusual.
"Oh, he'll forget all about it," he thought to himself.
"Here's ten cents, Humpy," he said. "Maybe I struck you too hard. Go and buy yourself some candy."
"Thank you," said the boy, taking the money.
"I've another errand for you."
He told what it was.
"Go and come back as soon as possible."
Humpy went quietly, and returned in good season.
About five o'clock, Martin not yet having returned, Smith directed him to carry up our hero's supper. There was a little exultant sparkle in the boy's eye, as he took the plate of buttered bread, and started to go upstairs.
"So it's you, is it?" said Rufus, on the boy's entrance. "Where is Martin?"
"He aint come in yet. Do you want to see him?"
"No, I'm not particular about it."
Humpy stood looking earnestly at Rufus while he was eating the bread and butter. At length he said, "I've been thinkin' over what you said to me at dinner-time. Shall I get the fifty dollars certain sure if I do what you want?"
"Yes," said Rufus, eagerly. "Get me the tin box, and help me to escape, and the money shall be yours."
"Honor bright?"
"Honor bright."
Rufus generally reached his boarding-house at half-past five o'clock. Sometimes Rose and her two young companions were playing in Washington Park at that time, and ran to meet him when he appeared in sight. But on the night of our hero's capture by Martin they waited for him in vain.
"Where can Rufie be?" thought Rose, as she heard six o'clock peal from a neighboring church-tower.
She thought he might have gone by without her seeing him, and with this idea, as it was already the hour for dinner, she went into the house. She ran upstairs two steps at a time, and opened the door of her own room.
"You should not have stayed out so late, Rose," said Miss Manning. "You will hardly have time to get ready for dinner."
"I was waiting for Rufie. Has he come?"
"No; he seems to be late to-night."
"I am afraid he's got run over," said Rose anxiously.
"Rufus is old enough to take care of himself. I've no doubt he's quite safe."
"Then what makes him so late?"
"He is probably detained by business. But there is the bell. We must go down to dinner."
"Can't we wait for Rufie?"
"No, my dear child; we cannot tell when he will be home."
"It don't seem a bit pleasant to eat dinner without Rufie," complained Rose.
"It isn't often he stays, Rose. He'll tell us all about it when he comes."
They went down and took their seats at the dinner-table.
"Where is your brother, Rose?" asked Mrs. Clifton.
"He hasn't got home," said Rose, rather disconsolately.
"I am sorry for that. He is a very agreeable young man. If I wasn't married," simpered Mrs. Clifton, "I should set my cap for him. But I mustn't say that, or Mr. Clifton will be jealous."
"Oh, don't mind me!" said Mr. Clifton, carelessly. "It won't spoil my appetite."
"I don't think there's anything that would spoil your appetite," said his wife, rather sharply, for she would have been flattered by her husband's jealousy.
"Just so," said Mr. Clifton, coolly. "May I trouble you for some chicken, Mrs. Clayton?"
"You're a great deal too old for Rufie, Mrs. Clifton," said Rose, with more plainness than politeness.
"I'm not quite so young as you are, Rose," said Mrs. Clifton, somewhat annoyed. "How old do you think I am?"
"Most fifty," answered Rose, honestly.
"Mercy sake!" exclaimed Mrs. Clifton, horrified, "what a child you are! Why don't you say a hundred, and done with it?"
"How old are you, Mrs. Clifton?" persisted Rose.
"Well, if you must know, I shall be twenty-five next November."
Mrs. Clifton was considerably nearer thirty-five; but, then, some ladies are very apt to be forgetful of their age.
The dinner-hour passed, and Rose and Miss Manning left the table. They went upstairs hoping that Rufus might be there before them; but the room was empty. An hour and a half passed, and it was already beyond eight, the hour at which Rose usually went to bed.
"Can't I sit up a little later to-night, Miss Manning?" pleaded Rose. "I want to see Rufie."
"No, Rose, I think not. You'll see him in the morning."
So Rose unwillingly undressed and went to bed.
By this time Miss Manning began to wonder a little why Rufus did not appear. It seemed to her rather strange that he should be detained by business till after eight o'clock, and she thought that an accident might possibly have happened to him. Still Rufus was a strong, manly boy, well able to take care of himself, and this was not probable.
When ten o'clock came, and he had not yet made his appearance, she went downstairs. The door of the hall bedroom, which Rufus occupied, was open and empty. This she saw on the way. In the hall below she met Mrs. Clayton.
"Rufus has not yet come in?" she said, interrogatively.
"No, I have not seen him. I saved some dinner for him, thinking he might have been detained."
"I can't think why he doesn't come home. I think he must be here soon. Do you know if he has a latch-key?"
"Yes, he got a new one of me the other day. Perhaps he has gone to some place of amusement."
"He would not go without letting us know beforehand. He would know we would feel anxious."
"Yes, he is more considerate than most young men of his age. I don't think you need feel anxious about him."
Miss Manning went upstairs disappointed. She began to feel perplexed and anxious. Suppose something should happen to Rufus, what would they do? Rose would refuse to be comforted. She was glad the little girl was asleep, otherwise she would be asking questions which she would be unable to answer. It was now her hour for retiring, but she resolved to sit up a little longer. More than an hour passed, and still Rufus did not come. It seemed unlikely that he would return that night, and Miss Manning saw that it was useless to sit up longer. It was possible, however, that he might have come in, and gone at once to his room, thinking it too late to disturb them. But, on going down to the next floor, she saw that his room was still unoccupied.
Rose woke up early in the morning; Miss Manning was already awake.
"Did Rufie come last night?" asked the little girl.
"He had not come when I went to bed," was the answer. "Perhaps he came in afterwards."
"May I dress and go down and see?"
"Yes, if you would like to."
Rose dressed quicker than usual, and went downstairs. She came up again directly, with a look of disappointment.
"Miss Manning, he is not here," she said. "His chamber door is open, and I saw that he had not slept in his bed."
"Very likely Mr. Turner sent him out of the city on business," said Miss Manning, with an indifference which she did not feel.
"I wish he'd come," said Rose. "I shall give him a good scolding, when he gets home, for staying away so long."
"Has not Mr. Rushton come?" asked Mrs. Clayton, at the breakfast-table.
"Not yet. I suppose he is detained by business."
Just after breakfast, Miss Manning, as usual, took the three little girls out in the Park to play. It was their custom to come in about nine o'clock to study. This morning, however, their governess went to Mrs. Colman and said, "I should like to take this morning, if you have no objection. I am feeling a little anxious about Rufus, who did not come home last night. I would like to go to the office where he is employed, and inquire whether he has been sent out of town on any errand."
"Certainly, Miss Manning. The little girls can go out and play in the Park while you are gone."
"Thank you."
"Where are you going, Miss Manning?" asked Rose, seeing that the governess was preparing to go out.
"I am going to Rufie's office to see why he stayed away."
"May I go with you?" asked Rose, eagerly.
"No, Rose, you had better stay at home. The streets are very crowded down town, and I shouldn't like to venture to cross Broadway with you. You can go and play in the Park."
"And shan't we have any lessons?"
"Not this morning."
"That will be nice," said Rose, who, like most girls of her age, enjoyed a holiday.
Miss Manning walked to Broadway, and took a stage. That she knew would carry her as far as Wall Street, only a few rods from Mr. Turner's office. She had seldom been in a stage, the stage fare being higher than in the cars, and even four cents made a difference to her. She would have enjoyed the brilliant scene which Broadway always presents, with its gay shop-windows and hurrying multitudes, if her mind had not been preoccupied. At length Trinity spire came in sight. When they reached the great church which forms so prominent a landmark in the lower part of Broadway, she got out, and turned into Wall Street.
It did not take her long to find Mr. Turner's number. She had never been there before, and had never met Mr. Turner, and naturally felt a little diffident about going into the office. It was on the second floor. She went up the stairway, and timidly entered. She looked about her, but Rufus was not to be seen. At first no one noticed her; but finally a clerk, with a pen behind his ear, came out from behind the line of desks.
"What can I do for you, ma'am?" he asked.
"Is Rufus Rushton here?" she inquired.
"No, he is not."
"Was he here yesterday?"
"He's out of the office just now, on some business of Mr. Turner's. That's Mr. Turner, if you would like to speak to him."
Miss Manning turned, and saw Mr. Turner just entering the office. He was a pleasant-looking man, and this gave her courage to address him.
"Mr. Turner," she said, "I came to ask about Rufus Rushton. He did not come home last night, and I am feeling anxious about him."
"Indeed!" said the banker, "I am surprised to hear that. It leads me to think that he may have found a clue to the stolen box."
"The stolen box!" repeated Miss Manning, in surprise.
"Yes; did he not tell you of it?"
"No, sir."
Mr. Turner briefly related the particulars already known to the reader. "I think," he said, in conclusion, "Rufus must have tracked the man Martin, and—"
"Martin!" interrupted Miss Manning. "Was he the thief?"
"Yes, so Rufus tells me. Do you know him?"
"I have good reason to. He is a very bad man. I hope he has not got Rufus in his power."
"I don't think you need feel apprehensive. Rufus is a smart boy, and knows how to take care of himself. He'll come out right, I have no doubt."
"I am glad to hear you say so, Mr. Turner. I will bid you good-morning, with thanks for your kindness."
"If Rufus comes in this morning, I will let him go home at once, that your anxiety may be relieved."
With this assurance Miss Manning departed. She had learned something, but, in spite of the banker's assurance, she felt troubled. She knew Martin was a bad man, and she was afraid Rufus would come to harm.
Our hero's interview with Humpy gave him new courage. When he had felt surrounded by enemies the chances seemed against him. Now he had a friend in the house, who was interested in securing his escape. Not only this, but there was a fair chance of recovering the box for which he was seeking. On the whole, therefore, Rufus was in very good spirits.
About nine o'clock he heard a step on the stairs, which he recognized as that of his step-father. He had good reason to remember that step. Many a time while his mother was alive, and afterwards while they were living in Leonard Street, he had listened to it coming up the rickety staircase, and dreaded the entrance of the man whose presence was never welcome.
After some fumbling at the lock the door opened, and Martin entered. It was dark, and he could not at first see Rufus.
"Where are you, you young villain?" he inquired, with a hiccough.
Rufus did not see fit to answer when thus addressed.
"Where are you, I say?" repeated Martin.
"Here I am," answered Rufus.
"Why didn't you speak before? Didn't you hear me?" demanded his step-father, angrily.
"Yes, Mr. Martin, I heard you," said Rufus, composedly.
"Then why didn't you answer?"
"Because you called me a young villain."
"Well, you are one."
Rufus did not answer.
Martin locked the door and put the key in his pocket. He next struck a match, and lit the gas. Then seating himself in a rocking-chair, still with his hat on, he looked at Rufus with some curiosity, mingled with triumph.
"I hope you like your accommodations," he said.
"Pretty well."
"We don't charge you nothing for board, you see, and you haven't any work to do. That's what I call living like a gentleman."
"I believe you tried the same kind of life at Blackwell's Island," said Rufus.
"Look here," said Martin, roughly, "you'd better not insult me. I didn't come here to be insulted."
"What did you come for, then?" asked Rufus.
"I thought you'd like to know how Rose was," answered Martin.
"I don't believe you have seen her."
"Well, you needn't believe it. Perhaps I didn't meet her on the street, and follow her home. She begged me to tell her where you was; but I couldn't do it."
Rufus felt a temporary uneasiness when he heard this statement; but there was something in Martin's manner which convinced him that he had not been telling the truth. He decided to change the subject.
"Mr. Martin," he said, "have you made up your mind to give up that tin box?"
"No I haven't. I can't spare it."
"If you will give it up, I will see that you are not punished for taking it."
"I aint a-goin' to be punished for taking it."
"You certainly will be if you are caught."
"What do you know about it?"
"There was a man convicted of the same thing three months ago, and he got five years for it."
"I don't believe it," said Martin, uneasily.
"You needn't if you don't want to."
"I haven't got the box now, so I couldn't give it back. Smith's got it."
"Is that the man I saw this morning?"
"Yes."
"Then you'd better ask him to give it back to you."
"He wouldn't do it if I asked him."
"Then I'm sorry for you."
Martin was not very brave, and in spite of his assertions he felt uneasy at what Rufus was saying. Besides, he felt rather afraid of our hero. He knew that Rufus was a resolute, determined boy, and that he could not keep him confined forever. Some time he would get out, and Martin feared that he would set the officers on his track. The remark of Smith that he would make a good boy for their business occurred to him, and he determined to try him on a new tack. If he could get him compromised by a connection with their business, it would be for his interest also to keep clear of the police.
"Rufus," said Martin, edging his chair towards our hero, "I'm your friend."
Rufus was rather astonished at this sudden declaration.
"I'm glad to hear it," he said; "but I don't think you've treated me in a very friendly manner."
"About the tin box?"
"Yes, partly that. If you're my friend, you will return it, and not keep me locked up here."
"Never mind, Rufus, I've got a business proposal to make to you. You're a smart boy."
"I am glad you think so."
"And I can give you a chance to make a good living."
"I am making a good living now, or I was before you interfered with me."
"How much did you earn a week?"
"Why do you want to know?"
"Was it over ten dollars a week?"
"About that."
"I know a business that will pay you fifteen dollars a week."
"What is it?"
"It is the one I'm in. I earn a hundred dollars a month."
"If you are earning as much as that, I shouldn't think you'd need to steal tin boxes."
"There wasn't much in it. Only a hundred dollars in money."
"You are not telling me the truth. There were four hundred dollars in it."
"What was that you said?" asked Martin, pricking up his ears.
"There were four hundred dollars in it."
"How do you know?"
"Mr. Turner told me so."
"Smith told me there were only a hundred. He opened it, and gave me half."
"Then he gave you fifty, and kept three hundred and fifty himself."
"If I thought that, I'd smash his head!" said Martin, angrily. "Make me run all the risk, and then cheat me out of my hard earnin's. Do you call that fair?"
"I think he's been cheating you," said Rufus, not sorry to see Martin's anger with his confederate.
"It's a mean trick," said Martin, indignantly. "I'd ought to have got two hundred. It was worth it."
"I wouldn't do what you did for a good deal more than two hundred dollars. You haven't told me what that business was that I could earn fifteen dollars a week at."
"No," said Martin, "I've changed my mind about it. If Smith's goin' to serve me such a mean trick, I won't work for him no longer. I'll speak to him about it to-morrow."
Martin relapsed into silence. Rufus had given him something to think about, which disturbed him considerably. Though he had been disappointed in the contents of the box, he had not for a moment doubted the good faith of his confederate, and he was proportionately incensed now that the latter had appropriated seven dollars to his one. Considering that he had done all the work, and incurred all the danger, it did seem rather hard.
There was one bed in the room, rather a narrow one.
"I'm goin' to bed," said Martin, at length. "I guess the bed'll be big enough for us both."
"Thank you," said Rufus, who did not fancy the idea of sleeping with his step-father. "If you'll give me one of the pillows, I'll sleep on the floor."
"Just as you say, but you'll find it rather hard sleepin'."
"I shan't mind."
This was the arrangement they adopted. Martin took off his coat and vest, and threw himself on the bed. He was soon asleep, as his heavy breathing clearly indicated. Rufus, stretched on the floor, lay awake longer. It occurred to him that he might easily take the key of the door from the pocket of Martin's vest, which lay on the chair at his bedside, and so let himself out of the room. But even then it would be uncertain whether he could get out of the house, and he would have to leave the tin box behind him. This he hoped to get hold of through Humpy's assistance. On the whole, therefore, it seemed best to wait a little longer.
Humpy made up his mind to accept our hero's offer. Fifty dollars was to him a small fortune, and he saw no reason why he should not earn it. The brutal treatment he had received from Smith removed all the objections he had at first felt.
Now, how was he going to fulfil his part of the compact?
To release Rufus would be comparatively easy. He happened to know that the key of his own room in the attic would also fit the door of the chamber in which our hero was confined. The difficulty was to get possession of the tin box. He did not even know where it was concealed, and must trust to his own sagacity to find out.
To this end he watched his employer carefully whenever he got a chance to do so without being observed, hoping he might take the box out from its place of concealment. Finally Smith noticed the boy's glances, and said, roughly, "What are you looking at, boy? Do you think you shall know me the next time you see me?"
Humpy did not reply, but this made him more careful.
In the morning he took up our hero's breakfast, meeting Martin on his way downstairs.
"Well," said Rufus, eagerly, as he entered the room, "have you found out anything about the box?"
"Not yet," said Humpy. "I'm tryin' to find where he's hid it. I can let you out any time."
"How?"
"I've got a key that fits this lock."
"That's well, but I'd rather wait till I can carry the box with me."
"I'll do what I can," said Humpy. "I'm goin' to watch him sharp. I'd better go down now, or maybe he'll be suspectin' something."
Humpy went downstairs, leaving Rufus to eat his breakfast. On his way down his attention was drawn by angry voices, proceeding from the room in which he had left Smith. He comprehended at once that Smith and Martin were having a dispute about something. He stood still and listened attentively, and caught the following conversation:—
"The boy tells me," said Martin, doggedly, "that there was four hundred dollars in the box. You only gave me fifty."
"Then the boy lies!" said Smith, irritated.
"I don't believe he does," said Martin. "I don't like him myself, but he aint in the habit of telling lies."
"Perhaps you believe him sooner than you do me."
"I don't see where the three hundred dollars went," persisted Martin. "Considerin' that I did all the work, fifty dollars was very small for me."
"You got half what there was. If there'd been more, you'd have got more."
"Why didn't you wait and open the box when I was there?"
"Look here," said Smith, menacingly, "if you think I cheated you, you might as well say so right out. I don't like beating around the bush."
"The boy says there was four hundred dollars. Turner told him so."
"Then Turner lies!" exclaimed Smith, who was the more angry, because the charge was a true one. "The box is just as it was when I opened it. I'll bring it out and show you just where I found the money."
When Humpy heard this, his eyes sparkled with excitement and anticipation. Now, if ever, he would find out the whereabouts of the tin box. Luckily for him the door was just ajar, and by standing on the upper part of the staircase he could manage to see into the room.
He saw Smith go to a desk at the centre of one side of the room, and open a drawer in it. From this he drew out the box, and, opening it, displayed the contents to Martin.
"There," said he, "that's where I found the money. There was a roll of ten ten-dollar bills. I divided them into two equal parts, and gave you your share. I was disappointed myself, for I expected more. I didn't think you'd suspect me of cheating you. But I don't want any fuss. I'll give you ten dollars off my share, and then you can't complain."
So saying, he took out a ten from his pocket-book, and handed it to Martin.
"Are you satisfied now?" he asked.
"I suppose I shall have to be," said Martin, rather sullenly, for he was by no means sure of the veracity of his confederate.
"It's all I can do for you at any rate," said Smith. "And now suppose we take breakfast. I shall want you to go to Newark to-day."
He replaced the box in the drawer, and, locking it, put the key in his pocket.
By this time Humpy thought it would do to reappear.
"Where've you been all the time?" asked Smith, roughly.
"The boy upstairs was talkin' to me."
"What did he say?"
"He asked what was your business."
"What did you tell him?"
"I told him I didn't rightly know; but I thought you was a manufacturer."
"Right, Humpy; you're a smart boy," laughed Smith. "You know a thing or two."
The boy showed his teeth, and appeared pleased with the compliment.
"What else did he ask?"
"He asked, would I let him out?"
"Did he, the young rascal? And what did you tell him?"
"Not for Joe!"
"Good for you! There's a quarter;" and Smith offered the boy twenty-five cents.
"If he'd done that yesterday instead of hittin' me," thought Humpy, "I wouldn't have gone ag'inst him."
But the money came too late. Humpy had a brooding sense of wrong, not easily removed, and he had made up his mind to betray his employer.
The breakfast proceeded, Humpy waiting upon the table. When the meal was over, Smith gave Martin some instructions, and the latter set out for Newark, which was to be the scene of his operations during the day. About half an hour later Smith said, "Humpy, I've got to go down town; I may be gone all the forenoon. Stay in the house while I am gone, and look out, above all, that that boy upstairs don't escape."
"Yes, sir," said Humpy.
When Smith left, the coast was clear. There were none in the house except Rufus and the boy who was expected to stand guard over him. The giant had gone to Philadelphia on some business, precisely what Humpy did not understand, and there was nothing to prevent his carrying out his plans.
He had two or three old keys in his pocket, and with these he eagerly tried the lock of the drawer. But none exactly fitted. One was too large, the other two were too small.
Humpy decided what to do. He left the house, and went to a neighboring locksmith.
"I want to get a key," he said.
"What size?"
"A little smaller than this."
"I must know the exact size, or I can't suit you. What is it the key of?"
"A drawer."
"I can go with you to the house."
"That won't do," said Humpy. "I've lost the key, and I don't want the boss to know it. He'd find out if you went to the house."
"Then I'll tell you what you can do. Take an impression of the lock in wax. I'll give you some wax, and show you how. Then I'll make a key for you."
"Can you do it right off? I'm in a great hurry."
"Yes, my son, I'll attend to it right away."
He brought a piece of wax, and showed Humpy how to take an impression of a lock.
"There," said he, laughing, "that's the first lesson in burglary."
Humpy lost no time in hurrying back and following the locksmith's instructions. He then returned to the shop.
"How soon can I have the key?"
"In an hour. I'm pretty sure I've got a key that will fit this impression with a little filing down. Come back in an hour, and you shall have it."
Humpy went back, and seeing that there were some traces of wax on the lock, he carefully washed them off with soap. A little before the hour was up, he reported himself at the locksmith's.
"Your key is all ready for you," said the smith. "I guess it will answer."
"How much is it?"
"Twenty-five cents."
Humpy paid the money, and hurried to the house, anxious to make his experiment.
The locksmith's assurance was verified. The key did answer. The drawer opened, and the errand-boy's eyes sparkled with pleasure as they rested on the box. He snatched it, hastily relocked the drawer, and went up the stairs two at a time. He had the key of his attic room in his pocket. With this he opened the door of the chamber, and, entering triumphantly, displayed to Rufus the tin box.
"I've got it!" he ejaculated.
Rufus sprang to his feet, and hurried up to him.
"You're a trump!" he said. "How did you get hold of it?"
"I haven't time to tell you now. We must be goin', or Mr. Smith may come back and stop us."
"All right!" said Rufus; "I'm ready."
The two boys ran downstairs, and, opening the front door, made their egress into the street, Rufus with the tin box under his arm.
"Where will we go?" asked Humpy.
"Are you going with me?"
"Yes, I want that money."
"You shall have it. You have fairly earned it, and I'll see that you get it, if I have to pay it out of my own pocket."
"I shan't go back," said Humpy.
"Why not?"
"He'll know I let you out. He'll murder me if I go back."
"I'll be your friend. I'll get you something to do," said Rufus.
"Will you?" said the hunchback, brightening up.
"Yes. I won't forget the service you have done me."
Rufus had hardly got out these words when Humpy clutched him violently by the arm, and pulled him into a passageway, the door of which was open to the street.
"What's that for?" demanded Rufus, inclined to be angry.
Humpy put his finger to his lip, and pointed to the street. On the opposite sidewalk Rufus saw Smith sauntering easily along with a cigar in his mouth.
It happened that Smith espied the man whom he wished to meet, from the car-window, just as it turned into Canal Street. He got out, therefore, and, adjourning to a whiskey saloon, the two discussed a matter of business in which they were jointly interested, and then separated. Thus Smith was enabled to return home sooner than he had anticipated. He little suspected that his prisoner had escaped, as he walked complacently by on the opposite sidewalk.
"It's lucky I saw him," said Humpy. "He might have nabbed us."
"He wouldn't have nabbed me," said Rufus, resolutely. "He'd have found it hard work to get me back."
"He's stronger than you," said Humpy, doubtfully.
"I'd have called a copp, then," said Rufus, using his old word for policeman.
"He'll kill me if he ever gets hold of me," said Humpy, shuddering. "He horsewhipped me yesterday."
"Then he's a brute," said Rufus, who could not help feeling a degree of sympathy for the deformed boy, who had done him such good service.
"He never did it before," said Humpy. "That's what made me turn against him."
"And you won't go back to him?"
"Never!" said Humpy, decidedly. "He'll know I let you out."
"What's your name?" asked Rufus, remembering that he had never heard the name of his guide.
"They call me Humpy," said the deformed boy, flushing a little. He had got hardened to the name, he thought; but now that Rufus asked him, he answered with a feeling of shame and reluctance.
"Haven't you another name? I don't like to call you that."
"My name is William Norton, but I've most forgot it, it's so long since anybody ever called me so."
"Then I'll call you so. I like it better than the other. Have you made up your mind what to do, now you've left your old place?"
"Yes, I'm going out West,—to Chicago maybe."
"Why do you leave New York?"
"I want to get away from him," said William, indicating his old employer by a backward jerk of his finger. "If I stay here, he'll get hold of me."
"Perhaps you are right; but you needn't go so far as Chicago. Philadelphia would do."
"He goes there sometimes."
"What will you do in Chicago?"
"I'll get along. There's a good many things I can do,—black boots, sell papers, smash baggage, and so on. Besides, I'll have some money."
"The fifty dollars I am to give you?"
"I've got more besides," said Humpy, lowering his voice. Looking around cautiously, lest he might be observed, he drew out the calico bag which contained his savings, and showed to Rufus.
"There's twenty dollars in that," he said, jingling the coins with an air of satisfaction. "That'll make seventy when you've paid me."
"I'm glad you've got so much, William. Where did you get it all?"
"I saved it up. He paid me fifty cents a week, and gave me an extra quarter or so sometimes when he felt good-natured. I saved it all up, and here it is."
"When did you begin saving?"
"Six months ago. I used to spend all my money for oysters and cigars, but somebody told me smokin' would stop me from growin', and I gave it up."
"You did right. I used to smoke sometimes; but I stopped. It don't do a boy any good."
"Are you rich?" asked Humpy.
"No. What makes you ask?"
"You wear nice clo'es. Besides, you are goin' to pay me fifty dollars."
"I'm worth five hundred dollars," said Rufus, with satisfaction.
"That's a good deal," said Humpy, enviously. "I'd feel rich if I had so much."
"You'll be worth a good deal more some time, I hope."
"I hope so, but it'll be a good while."
While this conversation had been going on, the boys had been walking leisurely. But Rufus, who was anxious to restore the tin box as soon as possible, now proposed to ride.
"We'll jump aboard the next car, William," he said. "I'll pay the fare."
"Where are you goin'?"
"To Mr. Turner's office, to return the box."
"He won't think I had anything to do with stealin' it, will he?"
"No; I'll take care he doesn't."
They jumped on board the next car, and before long reached the termination of the car route, at the junction of Vesey Street and Broadway.
"Where's the place you're goin' to?" asked Humpy.
"In Wall Street. We'll be there in ten minutes."
The boys proceeded down Broadway, and in rather less than ten minutes, Rufus, followed by Humpy, entered his employer's office.
His arrival created a sensation.
"I am glad to see you back, Rufus," said Mr. Turner, coming forward, and shaking his hand cordially.
The clerks left their desks, and greeted him in a friendly manner.
"I've brought back the tin box, Mr. Turner," said Rufus. "I told you I'd get it back, and I have," he added, with pardonable pride.
"How did you recover it? Tell me all about it."
"This boy helped me," said Rufus, directing attention to Humpy, who had kept himself in the background. "But for him I should still be a prisoner, closely confined and guarded."
"He shall be rewarded," said the banker. "What is his name?"
"William Morton."
Mr. Turner took the boy's hand kindly, dirty though it was, and said, "I will bear you in mind, my lad," in a tone which made Humpy, who before felt awkward and uncertain of a welcome, quite at his ease.
"Now for your story, Rufus," said the banker. "I am curious to hear your adventures. So you were a prisoner?"
"Yes, sir," answered Rufus, and forthwith commenced a clear and straightforward account of his experiences, which need not be repeated. He wound up by saying that he had promised Humpy fifty dollars in return for his assistance.
"Your promise shall be kept," said Mr. Turner. "I will pay you the money now, if you wish," he added, turning to Humpy. "I would advise you to put most of it in a savings-bank, as you are liable to be robbed, or to lose it."
"I'll put it in as soon as I get to Chicago," said Humpy.
"Are you going there?"
Rufus explained why the boy wished to leave New York.
"Do you want to start at once?"
"I'd like to."
"Then, Rufus, I think you had better go with him, and buy his ticket. You may also buy him a suit of clothes at my expense."
"Thank you, sir," said Humpy, gratefully.
"If you can spare me, Mr. Turner," said Rufus, "I would like to go home first, and let them know that I am safe."
"Certainly. That reminds me that a lady—was it your aunt?—was in the office an hour ago, asking for you."
"It was Miss Manning."
"I promised to let you go home when you appeared, and I think you had better do so at once to relieve the anxiety of your friends."
"Thank you, sir;" and Rufus was about to leave the office, when a thought occurred to him, and he turned back.
"I didn't think to tell you that the money had been taken out," he said.
"So I supposed. I will open the box."
The box being opened, it was discovered also that the government bonds were missing.
"That's too much to lose," said the banker. "What is the number of the house in which you were confined?"
Rufus was able to give it, having judged that it would be wanted.
"I shall give information to the police, and see what can be done towards recovering the bonds."
"Shall I go to the police-office for you, Mr. Turner?"
"No, you can go home at once. Then accompany this boy to a clothing-store, and afterwards to the Erie Railroad Station, where you may buy him a through ticket to Chicago. Here is the necessary money;" and Mr. Turner placed a roll of bills in the hands of our hero.
"Am I to buy the railroad ticket, also, out of this?"
"Yes. William shall have his fifty dollars clear to start on when he gets there."
Miss Manning had nearly got through with the morning lessons, when a quick step was heard ascending the stairs two or three at a time. Rose let drop the arithmetic, from which she had been reciting, and exclaimed, in glad excitement, "That's Rufie, I know it is!"
The door opened, and she was proved to be correct.
"Where've you been, Rufie?" exclaimed his sister, throwing her arms around his neck.
"Mr. Martin carried me off, Rosy."
"I knew he would; but you said you was too big."
"He was smarter than I thought for. Sit down, Rosy, and I'll tell you all about it. Were you anxious about me, Miss Manning?"
"Yes, Rufus. I don't mind saying now that I was, though I would not confess it to Rose, who fretted enough for you without."
So the story had to be told again, and was listened to, I need not say, with breathless interest.
"You won't let him catch you again, will you, Rufie?" said Rose, anxiously, when it was finished.
"Not if I know myself, Rosy," answered Rufus. "That can't be done twice. But I've got to be going. I've got ever so much to do. I'll be back to dinner at six."
He hastened downstairs, and rejoined Humpy, who had been waiting for him in the street.
Smith did not go home immediately. He intended to do so, but happened to think of an errand, and this delayed him for an hour or two.
When he entered the house, he looked around for his errand-boy, but looked in vain.
"Humpy!" he called out in a voice which could be heard all over the house.
There was no answer. Smith, who was not remarkable for patience, began to grow angry.
"Very likely the young rascal is in his room," he said to himself. "I'll stir him up."
He took the whip and ascended the stairs two or three at a time. Arrived in the attic, he peered into Humpy's room, but, to his disappointment, saw nobody.
"The little villain got tired of waiting, and went out, thinking I couldn't find him out," he muttered. "He shall have a taste of the whip when he comes back."
He went downstairs more slowly than he ascended. He was considerably irritated, and in a state that required an object to vent his anger upon. Under these circumstances his prisoner naturally occurred to him. He had the proper key in his pocket, and, stopping on the second floor, he opened the door of the chamber in which our hero had been confined. His anger may be imagined when he found it untenanted. It was not very dignified, but Smith began to stamp in his vexation, and lash with his whip an unoffending chair in which Rufus ought to have been seated.
"I wish it was that young villain!" muttered Smith, scowling at the chair, and lashing it harder. "I'd teach him to run away! I'd make him howl!"
Smith was considerably discomposed. Things were going decidedly against him. Besides, the escape of Rufus might entail serious consequences, if he should give information to the police about the place of his captivity. A visit from these officials was an honor which Smith felt disposed respectfully, but firmly, to decline. Unfortunately, however, policemen are not sensitive, and are very apt to intrude where they are not wanted. A visit to Smith's abode might lead to unpleasant discoveries, as he very well knew, and he could not easily decide what course it would be best for him to pursue. He inferred at once that Humpy had been bought over, and had released the prisoner, otherwise he would, undoubtedly, have detected or frustrated our hero's attempt to escape. This did not inspire very amiable feelings towards Humpy, whom it would have yielded him great satisfaction to get into his power. But Humpy had disappeared, and that satisfaction was not to be had.
Mingled with Smith's anger was a feeling of surprise. Humpy had been a good while in his employ, and he had reposed entire confidence in his fidelity. He might have continued to do so but for the brutal assault upon the boy recorded in a previous chapter. He did not think of this, however, or guess the effect it had produced on the mind of the deformed errand-boy.
"I think I had better get out of the city a week or two till this blows over," thought Smith. "I guess I'll take the afternoon train for Philadelphia."
This was a wise resolution; but Smith made one mistake. He ought to have put it into effect at once. At that very moment information was lodged at the office of police, which threatened serious consequences to him; but of this he was ignorant. He had no idea that Rufus would act so promptly.
In spite of his anger Smith was hungry. His morning walk had given him an excellent appetite, and he began to think about dinner. As, on account of the unlawful occupation in which he was engaged, he did not think it prudent to employ a cook, who might gossip about his affairs, he generally devolved the task of preparing the dinner upon Humpy, whom he had taught to cook eggs, broil beef-steak, make coffee, fry potatoes, and perform other simple culinary duties. Now that Humpy was gone, he was obliged to do this work himself.
He looked into the pantry, and found half-a-dozen eggs, and a slice of steak. These he proceeded to cook. He had nearly finished his unaccustomed task when the door opened, and Martin returned, with his nose a little redder than usual, and his general appearance somewhat disordered by haste.
"What brings you here so soon?" asked Smith, in surprise. "What's the matter?"
"I came near gettin' nabbed; that's what's the matter," said Martin.
"How did that happen?"
"I went into a cigar-store near the ferry in Jersey City," said Martin, "and asked for a couple of cigars,—twenty-cent ones. I took 'em, and handed in one of your ten-dollar bills. The chap looked hard at it, and then at me, and said he'd have to go out and get it changed. I looked across the street, and saw him goin' to the police-office. I thought I'd better leave, and made for the ferry. The boat was just goin'. When we'd got a little ways out, I saw the cigar man standin' on the drop with a copp at his elbow."
"You'd better not go to Jersey City again," said Smith.
"I don't mean to," said Martin. "Have you got enough dinner for me? I'm as hungry as a dog."
"Yes, there's dinner enough for two, and that's all there is to eat it."
Something significant in his employer's tone struck Martin.
"There's the boy upstairs," he said.
"There isn't any boy upstairs."
"You haven't let him go?" queried Martin, staring open-mouthed at the speaker.
"No, he got away while I was out this morning,—the more fool I for leaving him."
"But there was Humpy. How did the boy get away without his seeing him?"
"Humpy's gone too."
"You don't say!" ejaculated Martin.
"Yes, I do."
"What you goin' to do about it?" inquired Martin, hopelessly.
"I'll half kill either of the little rascals when I get hold of them," said Smith, spitefully.
"I'd give something out of my own pocket to get that undootiful son of mine back," chimed in Martin.
"I'll say this for him," said Smith, "he's a good sight smarter than his father."
"I always was unlucky," grumbled Martin. "I aint been treated right."
"If you had been you'd be at Sing Sing," returned Smith, amiably.
"Smith," said Martin, with drunken dignity, for he was somewhat under the influence of a liberal morning dram, "you'd ought to respect the feelin's of a gentleman."
"Where's the gentleman? I don't see him," responded Smith, in a sarcastic tone. "If you aint too much of a gentleman to do your share of the work, just draw out the table and put the cloth on."
This Martin, who was hungry, did with equal alacrity and awkwardness, showing the latter by over-turning a pile of plates, which fell with a fatal crash upon the floor.
"Just like your awkwardness, you drunken brute!" exclaimed Smith, provoked.
Martin did not reply, but looked ruefully at the heap of broken crockery, which he attributed, like his other misfortunes, to the ill-treatment of the world, and meekly got upon his knees and gathered up the pieces.
At length dinner was ready. Martin, in spite of an ungrateful world, ate with an appetite truly surprising, so that his companion felt called upon to remonstrate.
"I hope you'll leave a little for me. It's just possible that I might like to eat a little something myself."
"I didn't eat much breakfast," said Martin, apologetically.
"You'd better lunch outside next time," said his employer. "It will give you a good chance to change money."
"I've tried it at several places," said Martin; "I could do it better if you'd give me some smaller bills. They don't like to change fives and tens."
After dinner was despatched, and the table pushed back, Smith unfolded his plans to Martin. He suggested that it might be a little unsafe to remain at their present quarters for a week or fortnight to come, and counselled Martin to go to Boston, while he would go to Philadelphia.
"That's the way we'll dodge them," he concluded.
"Just as you say," said Martin. "When do you want me back?"
"I will write you from Philadelphia. You can call at the post-office for a letter in a few days."
"When had I better sell the bond?"
"That reminds me," said Smith. "I will take the box with me."
He went and unlocked the drawer in which the box had been secreted. To his dismay he discovered that it was gone.
"Have you taken the tin box?" he demanded, turning upon Martin with sudden suspicion.
"Isn't it there?" gasped Martin.
"No, it isn't," said Smith, sternly. "Do you know anything about it?"
"I wish I may be killed if I do!" asserted Martin.
"Then what can have become of it?"
"It's my undootiful boy that took it,—I'm sure it is," exclaimed Martin, with sudden conviction.
"He had no key."
"Humpy got him one, then."
Just then Smith espied on the floor some scraps of wax. They told the story.
"You're right," he said, with an oath. "We've been taken in worse than I thought. The best thing we can do is to get away as soon as possible."
They made a few hurried preparations, and left the house in company. But they were too late. A couple of officers, who were waiting outside, stepped up to them, as they set foot on the sidewalk, and said, quietly, "You must come with us."
"What for?" demanded Smith, inclined to show fight.
"You'd better come quietly. You are charged with stealing a box containing valuables."
"That's the man that did it," said Smith, pointing to Martin. "He's the one you want."
"He put me up to it, and shared the money," retorted Martin.
"You're both wanted," said the officer. "You'll have a chance to tell your story hereafter."
As this winds up the connection of these two worthies with our story, it may be added here that they were found guilty, not only of the robbery, but of manufacturing and disseminating counterfeit money, and were sentenced to Sing Sing for a term of years. The bonds were found upon them, and restored to Mr. Vanderpool.
Thus the world persists in its ill-treatment of our friend, James Martin. Still I cannot help thinking that, if he had been a sober and industrious man, he would have had much less occasion to complain.
In the course of an hour Humpy was provided with a new suit, which considerably improved his appearance. Rufus accompanied him to the Erie Railway Station, where he purchased for him a through ticket to Chicago, and saw him enter the cars.
"Good-by, William, and good luck!" said Rufus.
"Good-by," said Humpy. "You're a trump. You're the first friend I ever had."
"I hope I shan't be the last," said Rufus. "Shall I give your love to Smith, if I see him?"
"Never mind about it."
Rufus was compelled to leave the station before the cars started, in order to hurry back to the office. Arrived there a new errand awaited him.
"Rufus," said Mr. Turner, "do you remember where Mr. Vanderpool lives?"
"The owner of the tin box? Yes, sir."
"You may go up at once, and let him know that his property is recovered."
This task Rufus undertook with alacrity. He had been pleased with what he saw of Mr. Vanderpool on his first visit, and was glad to be able to tell him that the box, for whose loss he felt partly to blame, was recovered.
He was soon ringing the bell of the house in Twenty-Seventh Street.
Mr. Vanderpool was at home, the servant told him, and he was ushered immediately into his presence.
The old gentleman, who had been writing, laid aside his pen, and, looking up, recognized Rufus.
"You're the boy that came to tell me about my property being stolen, are you not?" he asked.
"Yes, sir; but it's found."
"Bless my soul, you don't say so! Did the thief give it up?"
"No," said Rufus. "I took it from him."
"Is it possible? Why, you're only a boy," said Mr. Vanderpool, regarding him with interest.
"Boys can do something as well as men," said Rufus, with pardonable pride.
"Tell me all about it."
Rufus told his story as briefly as possible. When he described how he had been entrapped and imprisoned, Mr. Vanderpool said, "Bless my soul!" several times.
"You're a brave boy!" he said, when the story was finished.
"Thank you, sir," said Rufus, modestly.
"Were you not afraid when you were locked up by those bad men?"
"Not at all, sir."
"I should have been. I don't think I am very brave. You've behaved very well indeed, Master —— I don't remember your name."
"Rufus Rushton."
"Master Rushton, I must make you a present."
"I have only done my duty, Mr. Vanderpool. I don't want any present for that."
"We'll talk about that afterwards. By the way, have you thought anything more about the question whether the planets are inhabited?"
"I can't say I have, sir. I've had so much else to think about."
"Very true, very true. I've written a few pages more, which I will read to you if you have time."
"I should like very much to hear them, sir; but I am afraid I must hurry back to the office."
"Ah, I am sorry for that," said the old gentleman, in a tone of disappointment, but he brightened up immediately.
"I'll tell you what, my young friend," he said; "you shall come and dine with me next Saturday at six, and then we will have the evening to ourselves. What do you say?"
"I shall be very happy to come, sir," said Rufus, not quite sure whether he would be happy or not.
When Saturday came he presented himself, and was very cordially received by the old gentleman. The dinner was a capital one, and served in excellent style. Mr. Vanderpool paid Rufus as much attention as if he were a guest of distinction,—read him his essay on the planets, and showed him some choice engravings. The evening passed very agreeably, and Rufus was urged to come again. He did so, and so won the favor of the old gentleman that at the end of two months he was invited to come and make his home permanently in the house in Twenty-Seventh Street.
"Thank you, Mr. Vanderpool," said our hero. "You are very kind; but I shouldn't like to leave Miss Manning and my little sister."
"Have you a little sister? Tell me about her."
"Her name is Rose, and she is a dear little girl," said Rufus, warmly.
"How old is she?"
"Eight years old."
"I am glad she is not a young lady. You can bring her too. I've got plenty of room. Who is Miss Manning?"
"She is a friend of mine, and teaches my sister."
"Why can't she come and look after my servants? I have no house-keeper."
"I will mention it to her," said Rufus.
Rufus did mention it to Miss Manning, who by appointment called upon the old gentleman. Mr. Vanderpool repeated the invitation, and offered her ten dollars per week for her services. Such an offer was not to be rejected. Miss Manning resigned her situation as governess to Mrs. Colman's children, greatly to that lady's disappointment, and removed with Rose to the house of Mr. Vanderpool. Elegant chambers were assigned to all three, and they found themselves living in fashionable style. As neither had any board to pay, Rufus felt justified in dressing both Rose and himself in a manner more befitting the style in which they now lived, while Miss Manning also, finding that she was expected to preside at the table, felt called upon to follow their example. It was such a change for all three that it seemed like a dream sometimes when they recalled the miserable attic in Leonard Street, and the humble lodging near the North River.
Rose was sent to school, and had a music-teacher at home. Miss Manning also, having considerable time at her disposal, took lessons in music and French, and soon acquired very respectable proficiency in both. The old gentleman, so long accustomed to solitude, seemed to renew his youth in the cheerful society he had gathered around him, and came to look upon Rufus and Rose as his own children. He was continually loading them with gifts, and his kindness won their gratitude and affection. He tried to induce Rufus to give up his situation with the banker; but our hero was of an independent turn, and had too active a temperament to be content with doing nothing. On the succeeding Christmas he received from Mr. Vanderpool a very costly gold watch, which I need not say was very acceptable.
About six months after her entrance into the house, Miss Manning was profoundly astonished by receiving from the old gentleman an offer of marriage.
"I don't ask for romantic love, my dear Miss Manning," said Mr. Vanderpool, "but I hope you will not find it hard to like me a little, and I'll try to make you happy. I don't want to hurry you. Take a week to think of it."
Miss Manning did take a week to think of it. She was not in love with Mr. Vanderpool,—that was hardly to be expected, as he was thirty years older than she,—but she did respect and esteem him, and she knew that he would be kind to her. So she said yes, after consulting with Rufus, and one morning, without any fuss or ostentation, she was quietly married, and transformed from plain Miss Manning into the rich Mrs. Vanderpool. I may say here that neither she nor her husband has seen cause to repent the match, so unexpectedly brought about, but live in harmony and mutual friendship, as I hope they may continue to do to the end of their days.
When Rufus reached the age of twenty-one, he was agreeably surprised by an offer from Mr. Turner to take him into partnership.
"But, Mr. Turner," he said, "I have very little capital,—far too little for a partner in such a large business."
"You have fifty thousand dollars. That will answer very well."
"I don't understand you, sir," said Rufus, suspecting that Mr. Turner was crazy, or was dreaming.
"You remember the tin box which you recovered five years ago?"
"Yes, sir."
"Mr. Vanderpool has made it over with its contents to you as a free gift. Its value, as you remember, is fifty thousand dollars, or rather more now, some of the stocks having risen in value."
Rufus was quite affected by this munificent gift, and no longer objected to the plan proposed. Shortly after, the style of the firm was changed, and now, as you pass through Wall Street, if you will closely examine the signs on either side of the street, your eyes may light on this one:—