Ben's Nugget; Or, A Boy's Search For Fortune

"No. I went to work in the city, and managed to get enough money to buy a steerage passage, and here I am."

"I suppose you have come to ask me to take you back into my employ? That, I take it, is your business with me."

"No, sir—not exactly."

"Then, what is it?" asked the merchant, looking a little puzzled. It crossed his mind that Jones might so far have forgotten his rule never to give away money for any purpose as to suppose there was a chance to effect a loan.

"I thought you and Mr. Orton might be willing to pay my expenses back to San Francisco," said Jones, coolly.

"Are you out of your head, Jones?" demanded Orton Campbell, amazed at the man's effrontery.

"Not at all."

"If this is meant as a joke, Jones," said the merchant in a dignified tone, "it is a very poor—and, I may add, a very impudent—one. What possible claim have you on us, that you should expect such a favor?"

"Have you heard anything of your ward, Mr. Campbell?" asked Jones, not in the least abashed.

"No. What has my ward to do with your concerns?"

"I have seen her," answered Jones, briefly.

"Where?" asked John Campbell and his son simultaneously.

"That information belongs to me," said Jones, quietly. "A detective doesn't work without pay."

The two Campbells now began to see the point. This man had information to sell, and would not give it up without what he considered suitable compensation. They determined to drive the best possible bargain with him. He was poor, and probably could be bought over for a small sum.

"Your information is worth something, Jones," said the merchant, guardedly. "I will go so far as to give you twenty-five dollars cash for it."

"That won't do," said Jones, shaking his head.

"Your information may be worth nothing," said Orton. "You may have seen her, but that doesn't show where she is now."

"I know where she is now," said Jones.

"Is she in California?"

"I don't mind telling you as much as that, Mr. Orton."

"Then we can find her without your assistance."

"I don't think you can. At any rate, it will take time, especially as, if you don't make a bargain with me, I shall write her that you are on her track."

Father and son looked at each other.

It was evident that Jones was no fool, and they would be obliged to submit to his terms or give up the search, which was not to be thought of.

"What do you propose, Jones?" asked Mr. Campbell, a little less haughtily.

"That you pay my expenses back to California and one thousand dollars," said Jones, promptly. "If you or Mr. Orton will go with me, I will show you where she lives, and then you can take your own course."

This was finally agreed to, and Orton Campbell and the ex-porter sailed by the next steamer for San Francisco, where Florence Douglas, still boarding with Mrs. Armstrong, was waiting impatiently for news of Richard Dewey.

CHAPTER XXII.

A MORNING CALL

Florence Douglas had now been an inmate of Mrs. Armstrong's household for some months. She avoided making acquaintances, and therefore was often lonely. But she was buoyed up by the thought that Richard Dewey was somewhere in the State, and that the two messengers whom she had sent out would eventually find him. She felt great confidence in Ben, and also in Bradley, who had impressed her as an honest, straightforward man, though illiterate and not at all times superior to temptation.

Her hope had been sustained by a letter received from Ben at the time he and Bradley were on the point of starting for the Sierras, where they had information that Dewey was engaged in mining. Then weeks passed, and she heard nothing. She began to feel anxious for the safety of her two agents, knowing that not alone wild beasts, but lawless men, were to be encountered among the mountains. Should Ben and his companion come to harm, she would be sincerely sorry for their fate, feeling in a measure responsible for it. Still more, Richard Dewey would then be left ignorant of her presence in California, and might return to the East in that ignorance, leaving her friendless and alone more than three thousand miles from her old home.

How would her heart have been cheered could she have known that at that moment Richard Dewey, with his two faithful friends, was but four days' journey from the city! So it happens that good fortune is often nearer to us than we imagine, even when our hearts are most anxious.

While she was trying to look on the bright side one morning, Mrs. Armstrong entered her room. "Miss Douglas," she said, "there is a gentleman in the parlor who wishes to see you."

Her heart gave a great bound. Who could it be but Richard Dewey who would call upon her?

"Did he give his name?" she asked, in agitation.

"No; he said you would know him."

"It must be Richard," she said to herself; and, controlling her agitation as well as she could, she descended to the parlor. She paused a moment before opening the door to regain her self-possession. Then, with an effort, she turned the knob, and entering the room, found herself face to face with Orton Campbell!

It was so unexpected and so bitter a disappointment that an expression of blank dismay overspread her face, and she sank into the nearest chair without venturing on a single word of greeting.

"You didn't expect to see me, Miss Douglas?" said Orton, enjoying the effect of his appearance, for he had never deceived himself with the thought that his father's ward would be glad to see him.

By this time Florence had regained her self-possession, and with it came back scorn for the man whose object in pursuing her she well understood to be love of her fortune, not of herself.

"You are entirely right, Mr. Campbell," she answered. "You are the last person I expected to see."

"You don't appear very glad to see me," he continued.

"Why should I appear so? You know very well that I am not glad to see you," said the heiress, frankly.

"That is complimentary," said Orton, rather provoked, though he knew very well in advance that such was her feeling.

"I suppose you didn't come here for compliments, Mr. Campbell?" said Florence, coldly.

"You are right: I didn't."

"May I ask if you are in San Francisco on business?"

"You take things very coolly, I must say, Miss Douglas. Certainly you cannot be ignorant of my motive in coming here at great personal inconvenience."

"I hope I have nothing to do with your reason."

"You are the sole reason."