Chapter XXXIV. Just In Time.
Dodger, who was a strong, stout boy, gathered himself up and dashed against the ruffian with such impetuosity that he fell over his intended victim, and his bludgeon fell from his hand.
It was the work of an instant to lift it, and raise it in a menacing position.
The discomfited villain broke into a volley of oaths, and proceeded to pick himself up.
He was a brutal-looking fellow, but was no larger than Dodger, who was as tall as the majority of men.
“Give me that stick,” he exclaimed, furiously.
“Come and take it,” returned Dodger, undaunted.
The fellow took him at his word, and made a rush at our hero, but a vigorous blow from the bludgeon made him cautious about repeating the attack.
“Curse you!” he cried, between his teeth. “I’d like to chaw you up.”
“I have no doubt you would,” answered Dodger; “but I don’t think you will. Were you going to rob this man?”
“None of your business!”
“I shall make it my business. You’d better go, or you may be locked up.”
“Give me that stick, then.”
“You’ll have to do without it.” Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXXIII. An Important Discovery.
“Curtis Waring!” ejaculated Dodger, his face showing intense surprise. “Is that the name of your husband?”
“Yes. Is it possible that you know him?” asked the woman, struck by Dodger’s tone.
“I know a man by that name. I will describe him, and you can tell me whether it is he. He is rather tall, dark hair, sallow complexion, black eyes, and a long, thin nose.”
“It is like him in every particular. Oh, tell me where he is to be found?”
“He lives in New York. He is the nephew of a rich man, and is expecting to inherit his wealth. Through his influence a cousin of his, a young lady, has been driven from home.”
“Was he afraid she would deprive him of the estate?”
“That was partly the reason. But it was partly to revenge himself on her because she would not agree to marry him.”
“But how could he marry her,” exclaimed the unfortunate woman, “when he is already married to me?”
“Neither she nor any one of his family or friends knew that he was already married. I don’t think it would trouble him much.”
“But it must be stopped!” she exclaimed, wildly. “He is my husband. I shall not give him up to any one else.”
“So far as Florence is concerned—she is the cousin—she has no wish to deprive you of him. But is it possible that you are attached to a man who has treated you so meanly?” asked Dodger, in surprise.
“There was a time when he treated me well, when he appeared to love me,” was the murmured reply. “I cannot forget that he is the father of my child.”
Dodger did not understand the nature of women or the mysteries of the female heart, and he evidently thought this poor woman very foolish to cling with such pertinacity to a man like Curtis Waring. Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXXII. An Exciting Adventure.
Dodger soon became accustomed to his duties at Tucker’s express office, in his new San Francisco home. He found Mr. Tucker an exacting, but not an unreasonable, man. He watched his new assistant closely for the first few days, and was quietly taking his measure.
At the end of the first week he paid the salary agreed upon—fifteen dollars.
“You have been with me a week, Arthur,” he said.
“Yes, sir.”
“And I have been making up my mind about you.”
“Yes, sir,” said Dodger, looking up inquiringly. “I hope you are satisfied with me?”
“Yes, I think I may say that I am. You don’t seem to be afraid of work.”
“I have always been accustomed to work.“
“That is well. I was once induced to take the son of a rich man in the place you now occupy. He had never done a stroke of work, having always been at school. He didn’t take kindly to work, and seemed afraid that he would be called upon to do more than he had bargained for. One evening I was particularly busy, and asked him to remain an hour overtime.
“ ‘It will be very inconvenient, Mr. Tucker,’ said the young man, ‘as I have an engagement with a friend.’
“He left me to do all the extra work, and—I suppose you know what happened the next Saturday evening?”
“I can guess,” returned Dodger, with a smile.
“I told him that I thought the duties were too heavy for his constitution, and Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXXI. Florence Is Discharged.
Mrs. Leighton sat in her boudoir with a stern face and tightly compressed lips. Miss Carter had called the previous afternoon and informed her of the astounding discoveries she had made respecting the governess.
She rang the bell.
“Janet,” she said, “when the governess comes you may bring her up here to me.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“She’s going to catch it—I wonder what for?” thought Janet, as she noted the grim visage of her employer.
So when Florence entered the house she was told that Mrs. Leighton wished to see her at once.
“I wonder what’s the matter now?” she asked herself. “Has she heard of my meeting her nephew in the car?”
When she entered the room she saw at once that something was wrong. Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXX. Florence Is Followed Home.
“I am listening, madam,” said Florence, inclining her head.
“I wish to speak to you about last evening, Miss Linden.”
“I hope my playing was satisfactory, Mrs. Leighton. I did my best.”
“I have no fault to find with your music. It came up to my expectations.”
“I am glad of that, madam.”
“I referred, rather, to your behavior, Miss Linden.”
“I don’t understand you, Mrs. Leighton,” Florence responded, in unaffected surprise. “Please explain.”
“You danced several times with my nephew, Mr. Percy de Brabazon.”
“Twice, madam.”
“I understood it was oftener. However, that is immaterial. You hardly seemed conscious of your position.”
“What was my position, Mrs. Leighton?” asked Florence, quietly, looking her employer in the face. “Well—ahem!” answered Mrs. Leighton, a little ill at ease, “you were a hired musician.”
“Well?”
“And you acted as if you were an invited guest.” Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXIX. Mrs. Leighton’s Party.
“Miss Linden,” said Mrs. Leighton, one day in the fourth month of Dodger’s absence, “Carrie has perhaps told you that I give a party next Thursday evening.”
“She told me,” answered the governess.
“I expected Prof. Bouvier to furnish dancing music—in fact, I had engaged him—but I have just received a note stating that he is unwell, and I am left unprovided. It is very inconsiderate on his part,” added the lady, in a tone of annoyance.
Florence did not reply. She took rather a different view of the professor’s letter, and did not care to offend Mrs. Leighton.
“Under the circumstances,” continued the lady, “it has occurred to me that, as you are really quite a nice performer, you might fill his place. I shall be willing to allow you a dollar for the evening. What do you say?”
Florence felt embarrassed. She shrank from appearing in society in her present separation from her family, yet could think of no good excuse. Noticing her hesitation, Mrs. Leighton added, patronizingly: Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXVIII. Florence Receives A Letter.
The discovery, through Tim Bolton, that Curtis Waring had a hand in the disappearance of Dodger, partially relieved the anxiety of Florence—but only partially.
He might be detained in captivity, but even that was far better than an accident to life or limb.
She knew that he would try to get word to her at the earliest opportunity, in order to relieve her fears.
But week after week passed, and no tidings came.
At length, at the end of ten weeks, a note came to her, written on a rough sheet of paper, the envelope marked by a foreign stamp.
It ran thus:
“Dear Florence:—I am sure you have worried over my disappearance. Perhaps you thought I was dead, but I was never better in my life. I am on the ship Columbia, bound for San Francisco, around Cape Horn; and just now, as one of the officers tells me, we are off the coast of Brazil.
“There is a ship coming north, and we are going to hail her and give her letters to carry home, so I hope these few lines will reach you all right. I suppose I am in for it, and must keep on to San Francisco. But I haven’t told you yet how I came here.
“It was through a trick of your cousin, Curtis Waring. I haven’t time to tell you about it; but I was drugged and brought aboard in my sleep; when I woke up I was forty miles at sea.
“Don’t worry about me, for I have a good friend on board, Mr. Randolph Leslie, who has been a reporter on one of the New York daily papers. He advises me to get something to do in San Francisco, and work till I have earned money enough to get home. He says I can do better there, where I am not known, and can get higher pay. He is giving me lessons every day, and he says I am learning fast.
“The ship is almost here, and I must stop. Take good care of yourself, and remember me to Mrs. O’Keefe, and I will write you again as soon as I get to San Francisco. Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXVII. Dodger Strikes Luck.
When Dodger landed in San Francisco, in spite of the fact that he had made the journey against his will, he felt a natural exhilaration and pleasure in the new and striking circumstances and scenes in which he found himself placed.
It was in the year 1877, and the city was by no means what it is now. Yet it probably contained not far from two hundred thousand people, lively, earnest, enterprising. All seemed busy and hopeful, and Dodger caught the contagion.
As he walked with the reporter to a modest hotel, where the rates were a dollar and a half a day, not far from Montgomery Street, Randolph Leslie asked:
“How do you like San Francisco thus far, Arthur?” Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXVI. Bolton Makes A Discovery.
“I see it all,” Bolton said to himself, thoughtfully. “Curtis Waring is afraid of the boy—and of me. He’s circumvented me neatly, and the game is his—so far my little plan is dished. I must find out for certain whether he’s had anything to do with gettin’ Dodger out of the way, and then, Tim Bolton, you must set your wits to work to spoil his little game.”
Bolton succeeded in securing the services of a young man who had experience at tending bar, and about eight o’clock, after donning his best attire, he hailed a Fourth Avenue surface car and got aboard.
Getting out at the proper street, he made his way to Madison Avenue, and ascended the steps of John Linden’s residence.
The door was opened by Jane, who eyed the visitor with no friendly glance.
“What do you want?” she asked, in a hostile tone. Read the rest of this entry »
Chapter XXV. Finding The Clew.
Tim Bolton looked at Florence in undisguised astonishment.
“Dodger!” he repeated. “How should I know? I supposed that you had lured him away from me.”
“He didn’t like the business you were in. He preferred to make a living in some other way.”
“Then why do you ask me where he is?”
“Because he did not come home last night. Shure he rooms at my house,” put in Mrs. O’Keefe, “and he hasn’t showed up since——”
“And you thought I might have got hold of him?” said Bolton, inquiringly.
“Then you are mistaken. I haven’t seen the boy for weeks.”
Tim Bolton spoke so straightforwardly that there was no chance to doubt his word.
“When he was living with you, Mr. Bolton,” continued Florence, “did he ever stay away like this?”
“No,” answered Bolton. “Dodger was always very regular about comin’ home.”
“Then something must have happened to him,” said Florence, anxiously.
“He might have got run in,” suggested the apple-woman. “Some of them cops is mighty officious.”
“Dodger would never do anything to deserve arrest,” Florence said, quickly.
“Thrue for you, Florence, but some innersent parties are nabbed. I know of one young man who was standin’ on a strate corner waitin’ for the cars, when a cop came up and arristed him for disorderly conduct.”
“But that is shameful!” said Florence, indignantly.
“Thrue for you, my dear. We might go round to the police headquarters and inquire if the boy’s been run in.”
“What do you think, Mr. Bolton?” asked Florence.
Tim Bolton seemed busy thinking. Finally he brought down his hand forcibly on the bar, and said: “I begin to see through it.”
Florence did not speak, but she fixed an eager look of inquiry on the face of the saloon-keeper.
“I believe Curtis Waring is at the bottom of this,” he said.
“My cousin!” exclaimed Florence, in astonishment.
“Yes, your cousin, Miss Linden.”
“But what can he have against poor Dodger! Is it because the boy has taken my part and is a friend to me?”
“He wouldn’t like him any better on account of hat; but he has another and a more powerful reason.” Read the rest of this entry »
