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."