The Cash Boy

“Very well,” said Mr. Wharton, with satisfaction.

The next day, by special favor, Frank got off from the store two hours earlier than usual. He bought at a Sixth Avenue basement store, a small, second hand trunk for two dollars. He packed his scanty wardrobe into the trunk, which, small as it was he was unable to fill, and had it carried to Mr. Wharton’s house.

He asked to see Mrs. Bradley, and she came to the door.

“I am glad to see you,” she said graciously. “You may leave your trunk in the hall and I will have it carried up by the servants.”

“Thank you,” said Frank, and he followed the housekeeper up the handsome staircase.

“This is to be your room,” said the housekeeper, opening the door of a small chamber on the third floor.

“It looks very nice and comfortable,” said Frank, looking about him with satisfaction.

She left the room, and five minutes later our hero’s modest trunk was brought up and deposited in the room.

That evening Frank read to Mr. Wharton as usual.

When nine o’clock came he said:

“You need not read aloud any more, but if you see any books in my library which you would like to read to yourself you may do so. In fact, Frank, you must consider yourself one of the family, and act as freely as if you were at home.”

“How kind you are to me, Mr. Wharton,” said Frank.

The next morning after Frank had left the house for his daily task, John Wade entered the housekeeper’s room.

“The boy is out of the way now, Mrs. Bradley,” he said. “You had better see if you have a key that will unlock his trunk.”

The two conspirators went upstairs, and together entered Frank’s room.

Mrs. Bradley brought out a large bunch of keys, and successively tried them, but one after another failed to open it.

“That’s awkward,” said John Wade. “I have a few keys in my pocket. One may possibly answer.”

The housekeeper kneeled down, and made a trial of John Wade’s keys. The last one was successful. The cover was lifted, and the contents were disclosed. However, neither John nor Mrs. Bradley seemed particularly interested in the articles for after turning them over they locked the trunk once more.

“So far so good,” said John Wade. “We have found the means of opening the trunk when we please.”

“When do you expect to carry out your plan, Mr. John?”

“Two weeks from this time my uncle is obliged to go to Washington for a few days on business. While he is gone we will spring the trap, and when he comes back he will find the boy gone in disgrace. We’ll make short work of him.”

CHAPTER XIV

SPRINGING THE TRAP

“I am going to give you a few days’ vacation, Frank,” said Mr. Wharton, a fortnight later. “I am called to Washington on business. However, you have got to feel at home here now.”

“Oh, yes, sir.”

“And Mrs. Bradley will see that you are comfortable.”

“I am sure of that, sir,” said Frank, politely.

When Frank returned at night, Mr. Wharton was already gone. John Wade and the housekeeper seated themselves in the library after dinner, and by their invitation our hero joined them.

“By the way, Frank,” said John Wade, “did I ever show you this Russia leather pocketbook?” producing one from his pocket.

“No, sir, I believe not.”

“I bought it at Vienna, which is noted for its articles of Russia leather.”

“It is very handsome, sir.”

“So I think. By the way, you may like to look at my sleeve-buttons. They are of Venetian mosaic. I got them myself in Venice last year.”

“They are very elegant. You must have enjoyed visiting so many famous cities.”

“Yes; it is very interesting.”

John Wade took up the evening paper, and Frank occupied himself with a book from his patron’s library. After a while John threw down the paper yawning, and said that he had an engagement. Nothing else occurred that evening which merits record.

Two days later Frank returned home in his usual spirits. But at the table he was struck by a singular change in the manner of Mrs. Bradley and John Wade. They spoke to him only on what it was absolutely necessary, and answered his questions in monosyllables.

“Will you step into the library a moment?” said John Wade, as they arose from the table.

Frank followed John into the library, and Mrs. Bradley entered also.

“Frank Fowler,” the enemy began, “do you remember my showing you two evenings since a pocketbook, also some sleeve-buttons of Venetian mosaic, expensively mounted in gold?”

“Certainly, sir.”

“That pocketbook contained a considerable sum of money,” pursued his questioner.

“I don’t know anything about that.”

“You probably supposed so.”

“Will you tell me what you mean, Mr. Wade?” demanded Frank, impatiently. “I have answered your questions, but I can’t understand why you ask them.”

“Perhaps you may suspect,” said Wade, sarcastically.

“It looks as if you had lost them and suspected me of taking them.”

“So it appears.”

“You are entirely mistaken, Mr. Wade. I am not a thief. I never stole anything in my life.”

“It is very easy to say that,” sneered John Wade. “You and Mrs. Bradley were the only persons present when I showed the articles, and I suppose you won’t pretend that she stole them?”