The Cash Boy

A long and fatiguing walk lay before him. But at last he reached the cars, and half an hour later the ferry at Jersey City.

Frank thought himself out of danger for the time being, but he was mistaken.

Standing on the deck of the ferryboat, and looking back to the pier from which he had just started, he met the glance of a man who had intended to take the same boat, but had reached the pier just too late. His heart beat quicker when he recognized in the belated passenger his late jailer, Nathan Graves.

Carried away by his rage and disappointment, Nathan Graves clenched his fist and shook it at his receding victim.

Our hero walked into the cabin. He wanted a chance to deliberate. He knew that Nathan Graves would follow him by the next boat, and it was important that he should not find him. Where was he to go?

Fifteen minutes after Frank set foot on the pier, his enemy also landed. But now the difficult part of the pursuit began. He had absolutely no clew as to the direction which Frank had taken.

For an hour and a half he walked the streets in the immediate neighborhood of the square, but his labor was without reward. Not a glimpse could he catch of his late prisoner.

“I suppose I must go to see Mr. Wade,” he at last reluctantly decided. “He may be angry, but he can’t blame me. I did my best. I couldn’t stand guard over the young rascal all day.”

The address which the housekeeper had given Frank was that of a policeman’s family in which she was at one time a boarder. On giving his reference, he was hospitably received, and succeeded in making arrangements for a temporary residence.

About seven o’clock Mrs. Parker made her appearance. She was fatigued by her journey and glad to rest.

“I was afraid you might be prevented from coming,” said Frank.

“I feared it also. I was about to start at twelve o’clock, when, to my dismay, one of the men came home. He said he had the headache. I was obliged to make him some tea and toast. He remained about till four o’clock, when, to my relief, he went upstairs to lie down. I was afraid some inquiry might be made about you, and your absence discovered, especially as the rope was still hanging out of the window, and I was unable to do anything more than cut off the lower end of it. When the sick man retired to his bed I instantly left the house, fearing that the return of some other of the band might prevent my escaping altogether.”

“Suppose you had met one of them, Mrs. Parker?”

“I did. It was about half a mile from the house.”

“Did he recognize you?”

“Yes. He asked in some surprise where I was going. I was obliged to make up a story about our being out of sugar. He accepted it without suspicion, and I kept on. I hope I shall be forgiven for the lie. I was forced to it.”

“You met no further trouble?”

“No.”

“I must tell you of my adventure,” said Frank.

“I came across the very man whom I most dreaded—the man who made me a prisoner.”

“Since he knows that you have escaped, he is probably on your track,” said Mrs. Parker. “It will be hardly safe for you to go to Mr. Wharton’s.”

“Why?”

“He will probably think you likely to go there, and be lying in wait somewhere about.”

“But I must go to Mr. Wharton,” said Frank. “I must tell him this story.”

“It will be safer to write.”

“The housekeeper, Mrs. Bradley, or John Wade, will get hold of the letter and suppress it. I don’t want to put them on their guard.”

“You are right. It is necessary to be cautious.”

“You see I am obliged to call on my grandfather, that is, on Mr. Wharton.”

“I can think of a better plan.”

“What is it?”

“Go to a respectable lawyer. Tell him your story, and place your case in his hands. He will write to your grandfather, inviting him to call at his office on business of importance, without letting him know what is the nature of it. You and I can be there to meet him, and tell our story. In this way John Wade will know nothing, and learn nothing, of your movements.”

“That is good advice, Mrs. Parker, but there is one thing you have not thought of,” said our hero.

“What is that?”

“Lawyers charge a great deal for their services, and I have no money.”

“You have what is as good a recommendation—a good case. The lawyer will see at once that if not at present rich, you stand a good chance of obtaining a position which will make you so. Besides, your grandfather will be willing, if he admits your claim, to recompense the lawyer handsomely.”

“I did not think of that. I will do as you advise to-morrow.”

CHAPTER XXI

JOHN WADE’S DISAPPOINTMENT

Mr. Wharton sat at dinner with his nephew and the housekeeper. He had been at home for some time, and of course on his arrival had been greeted with the news of our hero’s perfidy. But, to the indignation of Mrs. Bradley and John, he was obstinately incredulous.

“There is some mistake, I am sure,” he said. “Such a boy as Frank is incapable of stealing. You may be mistaken after all, John. Why did you not let him stay till I got back? I should like to have examined him myself.”

“I was so angry with him for repaying your kindness in such a way that I instantly ordered him out of the house.”

“I blame you, John, for your haste,” said his uncle. “It was not just to the boy.”

“I acted for the best, sir,” he forced himself to say in a subdued tone.

“Young people are apt to be impetuous, and I excuse you; but you should have waited for my return. I will call at Gilbert & Mack’s, and inquire of Frank himself what explanation he has to give.”

“Of course, sir, you will do what you think proper,” said his nephew.

This ended the conversation, and Mr. Wharton, according to his declared intention, went to Gilbert & Mack’s. He returned disappointed with the information that our hero was no longer in the store.

I now return to Mr. Wharton at dinner.

“Here is a letter for you, sir,” said the housekeeper. “It was brought by the postman this afternoon.”

Mr. Wharton adjusted his spectacles and read as follows:

“No.– Wall Street.