CHAPTER XXX
LUKE WALTON IS SUSPECTED OF THEFT
Harold was prepared for the announcement, as he felt confident his aunt would soon discover her loss, but he felt a little nervous, nevertheless.
"You don't mean it?" he ejaculated, in well-counterfeited, surprise.
"It's a fact."
"When did Aunt Eliza discover her loss, Felicie?"
"As soon as she got home. She went to her drawer to put back some money she had on hand, and found the pocketbook gone."
"Was there much money in it?"
"She doesn't say how much."
"Well," said Harold, thinking it time to carry on the programme he had determined upon, "I can't say I am surprised."
"You are not surprised!" repeated Felicie, slowly. "Why? Do you know anything about it?"
"Do I know anything about it?" said Harold, coloring. "What do you mean by that?"
"Because you say you are not surprised. I was surprised, and so was the old lady and your mother."
"You must be very stupid not to understand what I mean," said Harold, annoyed.
"Then I am very stupid, for I do not know at all why you are not surprised."
"I mean that the boy Aunt Eliza employs – that boy Luke has taken the money."
"Oh, you think the boy, Luke, has taken the money."
"Certainly! Why shouldn't he? He is a poor newsboy. It would be a great temptation to him. You know he is always shown into Aunt Eliza's sitting room, and is often there alone."
"That is true."
"And, of course, nothing is more natural than that he should take the money."
"But the drawer was locked."
"He had some keys in his pocket, very likely. Most boys have keys."
"Oh, most boys have keys. Have you, perhaps, keys, Master Harold?"
"It seems to me you are asking very foolish questions, Felicie. I have the key of my trunk."
"But do newsboys have trunks? Why should this boy, Luke, have keys? I do not see."
"Well, I'll go upstairs," said Harold, who was getting tired of the interview, and rather uneasy at Felicie's remarks and questions.
As Felicie had said, Mrs. Merton discovered her loss almost as soon as she came home. She had used but a small part of the money he took with her, and, not caring to carry it about with her, opened the drawer to replace it in the pocketbook.
To her surprise the pocketbook had disappeared.
Now, the contents of the pocketbook, though a very respectable sum, were not sufficient to put Mrs. Merton to any inconvenience. Still, no one likes to lose money, especially if there is reason to believe that it has been stolen, and Mrs. Merton felt annoyed. She drew out the drawer to its full extent, and examined it carefully in every part, but there was no trace of the morocco pocketbook.
She locked the door and went downstairs to her niece.
"What's the matter, Aunt Eliza?" asked Mrs. Tracy, seeing, at a glance, from her aunt's expression, that some thing had happened.
"There is a thief in the house!" said the old lady, abruptly.
"What!"
"There is a thief in the house!"
"What makes you think so?"
"You remember my small work table?"
"Yes."
"I have been in the habit of keeping a supply of money in a pocketbook in one of the drawers. I just opened the drawer, and the money is gone!"
"Was there much money in the pocketbook?"
"I happen to know just how much. There were sixty-five dollars."
"And you can find nothing of the pocketbook?"
"No; that and the money are both gone."
"I am sorry for your loss, Aunt Eliza."
"I don't care for the money. I shall not miss it. I am amply provided with funds, thanks to Providence. But it is the mystery that puzzles me. Who can have robbed me?"
Mrs. Tracy nodded her head significantly.
"I don't think there need be any mystery about that," she said, pointedly.
"Why not?"
"I can guess who robbed you."
"Then I should be glad to have you enlighten me, for I am quite at a loss to fix upon the thief."
"It's that boy of yours, I haven't a doubt of it."
"You mean Luke Walton?"
"Yes, the newsboy, whom you have so imprudently trusted."
"What are your reasons for thinking he is a thief?" asked the old lady calmly.
"He is often alone in the room where the work table stands, is he not?"
"Yes; he waits for me there."
"What could be easier than for him to open the drawer and abstract the pocketbook?"
"It would be possible, but he would have to unlock the drawer."
"Probably he took an impression of the lock some day, and had a key made."
"You are giving him credit for an unusual amount of cunning."
"I always supposed he was sly."
"I am aware, Louisa, that you never liked the boy."
"I admit that. What has happened seems to show that I was right."
"Now you are jumping to conclusions. You decide, without any proof, or even investigation, that Luke took the money."
"I feel convinced of it."
"It appears to me that you are not treating the boy fairly."
"My instinct tells me that it is he who has robbed you."
"Instinct would have no weight in law."
"If he didn't take it, who did?" asked Mrs. Tracy, triumphantly.
"That question is not easy to answer, Louisa."
"I am glad you admit so much, Aunt Eliza."
"I admit nothing; but I will think over the matter carefully, and investigate."
"Do so, Aunt Eliza! In the end you will agree with me."
"In the meanwhile, Louisa, there is one thing I must insist upon."
"What is that?"
"That you leave the matter wholly in my hands."
"Certainly, if you wish it."
"There are some circumstances connected with the robbery, which I have not mentioned."
"What are they?" asked Mrs. Tracy, her face expressing curiosity.
"I shall keep them to myself for the present."
Mrs. Tracy looked disappointed.
"If you mention them to me, I may think of something that would help you."
"If I need help in that way, I will come to you."
"Meanwhile, shall you continue to employ the boy?"
"Yes; why not?"
"He might steal something more."
"I will risk it."
Mrs. Merton returned to her room, and presently Harold entered his mother's presence.
"What is this I hear about Aunt Eliza having some money stolen?" he asked.
"It is true. She has lost sixty-five dollars."
"Felicie told me something about it – that it was taken out of her drawer."
Mrs. Tracy went into particulars, unconscious that her son was better informed than herself.
"Does aunt suspect anyone?" asked Harold, uneasily.
"She doesn't, but I do."
"Who is it?"
"That boy, Luke Walton."
"The very one I thought of," said Harold, eagerly. "Did you mention him to Aunt Eliza?"
"Yes; but she is so infatuated with him that she didn't take the suggestion kindly. She has promised to investigate, however, and meanwhile doesn't want us to interfere."
"Things are working round as I want them," thought Harold.
CHAPTER XXXI
WHO STOLE THE MONEY?
Did Mrs. Merton suspect anyone of the theft? This is the question which will naturally suggest itself to the reader.
No thought of the real thief entered her mind. Though she was fully sensible of Harold's faults, though she knew him to be selfish, bad-tempered, and envious, she did not suppose him capable of theft. The one who occurred to her as most likely to have robbed her was her recently returned nephew, Warner Powell, who had been compelled to leave Chicago years before on account of having yielded to a similar temptation. She knew that he was hard up for money, and it was possible that he had opened the table drawer and abstracted the pocketbook. As to Luke Walton, she was not at all affected by the insinuations of her niece. She knew that Mrs. Tracy and Harold had a prejudice against Luke, and that this would make them ready to believe anything against him.
She was curious, however, to hear what Warner had to say about the robbery. Would he, too, try to throw suspicion upon Luke in order to screen himself, if he were the real thief? This remained to be proved.
Warner Powell did not return to the house till five o'clock in the afternoon. His sister and Harold hastened to inform him of what had happened, and to communicate their conviction that Luke was the thief. Warner said little, but his own suspicions were different. He went up stairs, and made his aunt a call.
"Well, aunt," he said, "I hear that you have been robbed."
"Yes, Warner, I have lost some money," answered the old lady, composedly.
"Louisa told me."
"Yes; she suspects Luke of being the thief. Do you agree with her?"
"No, I don't," answered Warner.
Mrs. Merton's face brightened, and she looked kindly at Warner.
"Then you don't share Louisa's prejudice against Luke?" she said.
"No; I like the boy. I would sooner suspect myself of stealing the money, for, you know, Aunt Eliza, that my record is not a good one, and I am sure Luke is an honest boy."
Mrs. Merton's face fairly beamed with delight. She understood very well the low and unworthy motives which influenced her niece and Harold, and it was a gratifying surprise to find that her nephew was free from envy and jealousy.
"Warner," she said, "what you say does you credit. In this particular case I happen to know that Luke is innocent."
"You don't, know the real thief?" asked Warner.
"No; but my reason for knowing that Luke is innocent I will tell you. The money was safe in my drawer when I went out this morning. It was taken during my absence from the house. Luke was with me during this whole time. Of course, it is impossible that he should be the thief."
"I see. Did you tell Louisa this?"
"No; I am biding my time. Besides, I am more likely to find the real thief if it is supposed that Luke is under suspicion."
"Tell me truly, Aunt Eliza, didn't you suspect me?"
"Since you ask me, Warner, I will tell you frankly that it occurred to me as possible that you might have yielded to temptation."
"It would have been a temptation, for I have but twenty-five cents. But even if I had known where you kept your money (which I didn't), I would have risked applying to you for a loan, or gift, as it would have turned out to be, rather than fall back into my old disreputable ways."
"I am very much encouraged by what you say, Warner. Here are ten dollars. Use it judiciously; try to obtain employment, and when it is gone, you may let me know."
"Aunt Eliza, you are kinder to me than I deserve. I will make a real effort to secure employment, and will not abuse your confidence."
"Keep that promise, Warner, and I will be your friend. One thing more: don't tell Louisa what has passed between us. I can, at any time, clear Luke, but for the present I will let her think I am uncertain on that point. I shall not forget that you took the boy's part where your sister condemned him."
"Louisa and Harold can see no good in the boy; but I have observed him carefully, and formed my own opinion."
Warner could have done nothing better calculated to win his aunt's favor than to express a favorable opinion of Luke. It must be said, however, in justice to him, that this had not entered into his calculations. He really felt kindly towards the boy whom his sister denounced as "sly and artful," and liked him much better than his own nephew, Harold, who, looking upon Warner as a poor relation, had not thought it necessary to treat him with much respect or attention. He had a better heart and a better disposition than Mrs. Tracy or Harold, notwithstanding his early shortcomings.
"Who could have been the thief?" Warner asked himself, as he left his aunt's sitting room. "Could it have been Harold?"
He resolved to watch his nephew carefully and seek some clew that would lead to a solution of the mystery.
"I hope it isn't my nephew," he said to himself. "I don't want him to follow in the steps of his scapegrace uncle. But I would sooner suspect him than Luke Walton. They say blood is thicker than water, but I confess that I like the newsboy better than I do my high-toned nephew."
"Have you made any discovery of the thief, Aunt Eliza?" asked Mrs. Tracy, as her aunt seated herself at the evening repast.
"Nothing positive," answered the old lady, significantly.
"Have you discovered anything at all?"
"I have discovered who is not the thief," said Mrs. Merton.
"Then you had suspicions?"
"No definite suspicions."
"Wouldn't it be well to talk the matter freely over with me? Something might be suggested."
"I beg your pardon, Louisa, but I think it would be well to banish this disagreeable matter from our table talk. If I should stand in need of advice, I will consult you."
"I don't want to obtrude my advice, but I will venture to suggest that you call in a private detective."
Harold looked alarmed.
"I wouldn't bother with a detective," he said. "They don't know half as much as they pretend."
"I am inclined to agree with Harold," said Mrs. Merton. "I will act as my own detective."
Save for the compliment to Harold, Mrs. Tracy was not pleased with this speech of her aunt.
"At any rate," she said, "you would do well to keep a strict watch over that boy, Luke Walton."
"I shall," answered the old lady, simply.
Mrs. Tracy looked triumphant.
Warner kept silent, but a transient smile passed over his face as he saw how neatly Aunt Eliza had deceived his astute sister.
"What do you think, Warner?" asked Mrs. Tracy, desirous of additional support.
"I think Aunt Eliza will get at the truth sooner or later. Of course I will do anything to help her, but I don't want to interfere."
"Don't you think she ought to discharge Luke?"
"If she did, she would have no chance of finding out whether he was guilty or not."
"That is true. I did not think of that."
"Warner is more sensible than any of you," said Mrs. Merton.
"I am glad you have changed your opinion of him," said Mrs. Tracy, sharply.
She was now beginning to be jealous of her scapegrace brother.
"So am I," said Warner, smiling. "At the same time I don't blame aunt for her former opinion."
The next morning Harold was about leaving the house, when Felicie, the French maid, came up softly, and said: "Master Harold, may I have a word with you?"
"I am in a hurry," said Harold, impatiently.
"It is about the stolen money," continued Felicie, in her soft voice. "You had better listen to what I have to say. I have found out who took it."
Harold's heart gave a sudden thump, and his face indicated dismay.
CHAPTER XXXII
HAROLD AND FELICIE MAKE AN ARRANGEMENT
"You have found out who took the money?" stammered Harold.
"Yes."
"I didn't think it would be found out so soon," said Harold, trying to recover his equanimity. "Of course it was taken by Luke Walton."
"You are quite mistaken," said Felicie. "Luke Walton did not take it."
Harold's heart gave another thump. He scented danger, but remained silent.
"You don't ask me who took the money?" said Felicie, after a pause.
"Because I don't believe you know," returned Harold, "You've probably got some suspicion?"
"I have more than that. The person who took the money was seen at his work."
Harold turned pale.
"There is no use in mincing matters," continued Felicie. "You took the money."
"What do you mean by such impertinence?" gasped Harold.
"It is no impertinence. If you doubt my knowledge, I'll tell you the particulars. You opened the drawer with one of a bunch of keys which you took from your pocket, took out a morocco pocketbook, opened it and counted the roll of bills which it contained, then put the pocketbook into your pocket, locked the drawer and left the room."
"That's a fine story," said Harold, forcing himself to speak. "I dare say all this happened, only you were the one who opened the drawer."
"I saw it all through a crack in the half-open door," continued Felicie, not taking the trouble to answer his accusation. "If you want further proof, suppose you feel in your pocket. I presume the pocketbook is there at this moment."
Instinctively Harold put his hand into his pocket, then suddenly withdrew it, as if his fingers were burned, for the pocketbook was there as Felicie had said.
"There is one thing more," said Felicie, as she drew from her pocket a bunch of keys. "I found this bunch of keys in your room this morning."
"They are not mine," answered Harold, hastily.
"I don't know anything about that. They are the ones you had in your hand when you opened the drawer. I think this is the key you used."
"The keys belong to you!" asserted Harold, desperately.
"Thank you for giving them to me, but I shall have no use for them," said Felicie, coolly. "And now, Master Harold, do you want to know why I have told you this little story?"
"Yes," answered Harold, feebly.
"Because I think it will be for our mutual advantage to come to an understanding. I don't want to inform your aunt of what I have seen unless you compel me to do so."
"How should I compel you to do so?" stammered Harold, uneasily.
"Step into the parlor, where we can talk comfortably. Your aunt is upstairs, and your mother is out, so that no one will hear us."
Harold felt that he was in the power of the cunning Felicie, and he followed her unresistingly.
"Sit down on the sofa, and we will talk at our ease. I will keep silent about this matter, and no one else knows a word about it, if – "
"Well?"
"If you will give me half the money."
"But," said Harold, who now gave up the pretense of denial, "I have spent part of it."
"You have more than half of it left?"
"Yes."
"Give me thirty dollars and I will be content. I saw you count it. There were sixty-five dollars."
"I don't see what claim you have to it," said Harold, angrily.
"I have as much as you," answered Felicie, coolly. "Still, if you prefer to go to your aunt, own up that you took it, and take the consequences, I will agree not to interfere. But if I am to keep the secret, I want to be paid for it."
Harold thought it over; he hated to give up so large a part of his plunder, for he had appropriated it in his own mind to certain articles which he wished to purchase.
"I'll give you twenty dollars," he said.
"No, I will take thirty dollars, or go to your aunt and tell her all I know."
There was no help for it. Poor Harold took out three ten-dollar bills, reluctantly enough, and gave them to Felicie.
"All right, Master Harold! You've done wisely. I thought you would see matters in the right light. Think how shocked your mother and Aunt Eliza would be if they had discovered that you were the thief."
"Don't use such language, Felicie!" said Harold, wincing. "There is no need to refer to it again."
"As you say, Master Harold. I won't detain you any longer from your walk," and Felicie, with a smile, rose from the sofa and left the room, Harold following.
"Don't disturb yourself any more," she said, as she opened the door for Harold. "It will never be known. Besides, your aunt can well afford to lose this little sum. She is actually rolling in wealth. She ought to be more liberal to you."
"So she ought, Felicie. If she had, this would not have happened."
"Very true. At the same time, I don't suppose a jury would accept this as an excuse."
"Why do you say such things, Felicie? What has a jury got to do with me?"
"Nothing, I hope. Still, if it were a poor boy that had taken the money, Luke Walton, for instance, he might have been arrested. Excuse me, I see this annoys you. Let me give you one piece of advice, Master Harold."
"What is it?"
"Get rid of that morocco pocketbook as soon as you can. If it were found on you, or you should be careless, and leave it anywhere, you would give yourself away, my friend."
"You are right, Felicie," said Harold, hurriedly. "Good-morning!"
"Good-morning, and a pleasant walk, my friend," said Felicie, mockingly.
When Harold was fairly out in the street, he groaned in spirit. He had lost half the fruits of his theft, and his secret had become known. Felicie had proved too much for him, and he felt that he hated her.
"I wish I could get mother to discharge her, with out her knowing that it was I who had brought it about. I shall not feel safe as long as she is in the house. Why didn't I have the sense to shut and lock the door? Then she wouldn't have seen me."
Then the thought of the morocco pocketbook occurred to him. He felt that Felicie was right – that it was imprudent to carry it around. He must get rid of it in some way.
He took the money out and put it in another pocket. The pocketbook he replaced till he should have an opportunity of disposing of it.
Hardly had he made these preparations when he met Luke Walton, who had started unusually early, and was walking towards the house. An idea came to Harold.
"Good-morning, Luke!" he said, in an unusually friendly tone.
"Good-morning, Harold!" answered Luke, agreeably surprised by the other's cordiality.
"Are you going out with Aunt Eliza this morning?"
"I am not sure whether she will want to go out. I shall call and inquire."
"You seem to be quite a favorite of hers."
"I hope I am. She always treats me kindly."
"I really believe she thinks more of you than she does of me."
"You mustn't think that," said Luke, modestly. "You are a relation, and I am only in her employ."
"Oh, it doesn't trouble me. I am bound for the city. I think I shall take the next car, good-day!"
"Good-day, Harold!"
Luke walked on, quite unconscious that Harold, as he passed by his side, had managed to slip the morocco wallet into the pocket of his sack coat.