Ralph Raymond's Heir

"Softly, my friend. I have said nothing of the sort. But you will do me the favor to remember that it was only to be given in case the boy died."

"Well, he is dead."

"How am I to know that?"

"Because I say so."

"You only say you think he is dead. You bring me no proof. When I ask you how you can know it positively, you offer me no explanation."

"I saw his ghost Thursday night," said James Cromwell, shuddering.

"His ghost! What ridiculous nonsense is this?" demanded the merchant.

"I saw his ghost as plain as I see you," said Cromwell, in a subdued voice.

"And where was it that this precious apparition came to you?" asked Mr. Morton, with contempt.

"It was in a hotel at Wheeling," said James Cromwell. "I was lying awake when the door of my chamber suddenly opened, and his person entered."

"Did he speak?" asked Paul Morton, impressed in spite of himself, by the tone of conviction with which the other spoke.

"Yes," said Cromwell.

"What did he say?"

"I—cannot tell," he said, with a shudder.

"Pooh, man! you had a night-mare, nothing more and nothing less," said the merchant. "You must be crazy if you expect me to believe that the boy is dead on any such absurd testimony as this. I dare say you had eaten a heavy dinner, or perhaps drank too much, and so the supposed ghost was only the offspring of your own distempered fancy, and that proceeded from a disordered stomach."

James Cromwell shook his head.

"You are wrong," he said. "I was as wide awake as I am now."

"Well, that is your affair—if you choose to believe in the reality of this visitation, well and good. That is nothing to me. But if you want me to credit the story of the boy's death, you must bring a certified statement from the coroner in your town—Madison is the name, I believe—then there will be no room for doubt."

"To do that, I shall be obliged to return to the West," said Cromwell, disconcerted.

"Then you have only yourself to blame for the extra trouble you are obliged to take. You ought not to have come away at all until you could bring with you satisfactory evidence of the boy's death."

James Cromwell looked down in dismay. This did not suit his views at all. Besides, he saw that it would be awkward to go back, and institute such proceedings so late. But Paul Morton evidently meant to keep him to it.

"Perhaps it would have been better," he said, at last.

"Of course it would. You can see for yourself that until I have satisfactory proof of my ward's decease I cannot take possession of the property, nor of course can I give you any portion of it while I am not sure whether it is mine to give. I should think that was plain enough."

It was plain enough. James Cromwell saw that now, and he was provoked at his mistake.

"Then," he said, disappointed, "I suppose I must go back."

"No, that will not be necessary. You can telegraph to some person to institute a search of the pond, if you have reason to think the body will be found there, and request information to be sent at once of any discovery that may be made."

"I will do so," said Cromwell, relieved.

While they were speaking, the doorbell had rung, though neither had heard it, and Major Woodley, instructing the servant to usher him in without previous announcement, entered the presence of the guilty employer and his equally guilty confederate; close behind him followed Robert Raymond.

At the sight of him Cromwell staggered to his feet, and gazed upon him with distended eyes, and Paul Morton sat as if rooted to the chair.

It was an effective tableau.

CHAPTER XXIV.

CONCLUSION

The merchant was the first to recover his self-possession.

"I have not the pleasure of knowing you, sir," he said to Major Woodley.

"My name is Woodley," said the latter. "I was a friend of this boy's father," and he laid his hand on the shoulder of Robert.

"May I ask how you fell in with him? I confess I am puzzled at his unexpected appearance, having just received intelligence from this person (indicating Cromwell) that he had disappeared."

"May I ask, as his father's friend, why you should have committed Robert to the care of a man, who is, to say the least, wholly unfitted by education or experience, to have the charge of him?"

"I do not choose to be called to account," said Mr. Morton, haughtily. "His father made me his guardian, and confided in my judgment."

"Then, sir, you should have shown yourself worthy of the confidence he reposed in you," said Major Woodley.

"Sir, you assume an extraordinary tone," said Paul Morton, angrily.

"Are you aware of the manner in which the boy has been treated by the person to whom you committed him?"

"Yes, I presume so. You perhaps have credited the boy's story, which probably is wholly unreliable. Of course, I don't know what he has told you."

"Then, sir, I have to inform you that it is only by a miracle that the boy stands here to-day in health. This wretch made two distinct attempts to murder him!" and he pointed his finger at James Cromwell.

"Impossible!" exclaimed Paul Morton, nervously.

"It is not only possible, but true. On the first occasion he attempted to hurl him over Niagara Falls, but the boy's quick grasp saved him from the fearful fate."

"I cannot believe this," muttered Mr. Morton.

"On the second occasion he seized him unawares while both were in a boat on a pond, and threw him into the water to drown. Fortunately, he was rescued by one who witnessed the attempt."

"These are fables," said Paul Morton. "The boy has grossly deceived you."

"We can send for evidence, if necessary," said Major Woodley, coolly, "but that will hardly be necessary. If you look at that man's face, you will read upon it the proof that the story is no invention, and is the literal truth."

He pointed to Cromwell, who was livid with terror, and stricken with the confusion of conscious guilt. He staggered to his feet, and in his wild terror attempted to rush out of the apartment.