Mark Manning's Mission

"A hundred dollars—after my takin' care of the boy ever since he was a babby. Now you're jokin'."

"Well, you see, his grandfather isn't a rich man—" explained Lyman, fearing he had unduly raised the expectations of the old woman.

"You said he was!" retorted Peggy sharply.

"I said he had a comfortable property—for a country town. That means a few thousand dollars."

"He sha'n't have him for such a thrifle," snapped Peggy.

"The police might take him from you, without your getting a cent."

"How would they know, unless you told 'em?" asked Peggy suspiciously.

"Look here, Peggy!" said Lyman in a conciliatory tone. "We've got to stand by each other in this thing. Just leave the matter in my hands, and I'll manage it as well as I can. I'll get as much money from the old gentleman as I can."

"And you'll give me half?"

"Of course—that is, after necessary expenses are paid."

"And what am I to do then?"

"Nothing, except to stay here, and see that nobody gets hold of Jack. Does he know who he is?"

"He thinks I'm his aunt."

"And is proud of the connection, no doubt," said Lyman, who could not restrain his tendency to sarcasm. "Well, perhaps that is as well. Don't let any one know that it is not true. We can keep quiet till the time comes to make it known. Now, I'll leave you, and take the first step by writing to my uncle. Good afternoon, Peggy! I'll call again in a day or two."

"Couldn't you leave me a dollar or two before you go?" whined Peggy. "Me health is very poor, and I can't work, and it's only a few pennies the boy brings in."

"You're better off than I am," said Lyman curtly, "for I am out of employment and I have no boy to bring me in pennies. I don't know but I'd better take Jack at once, and then you won't have to take care of him."

"I'll kape him," said the old woman hurriedly—for she had no wish to lose the income the match boy brought in, small as it was. "I'll kape him, for he's used to me life, and he's happier here."

"Just as you like, Peggy!" returned Lyman with a smile at the success of his stratagem. "I'd help you if I could, but I'm almost at the bottom of my purse as it is. I'll see you again in a day or two, and report progress."

"I've done a good day's work," reflected Lyman, as he picked his way downstairs, nearly slipping on a piece of orange peel on one of the steps. "It was a piece of good luck, my finding Jack so soon after seeing that St. Louis paper—but I must write an effective letter to my uncle."

Lyman went to the Sherman House, and entering the writing-room procured a sheet of note paper, and penned the following note:

    "Chicago, September 7, 18—.

"My Dear Uncle:

"I am afraid you are feeling anxious about me, and I will therefore relieve your affectionate solicitude, by saying that I am well in health, but low—very low in pocket. It costs more to live in Chicago than in Pocasset, and the sum of money with which you provided me is nearly gone. As I am a little afraid this hint won't be sufficient to open your heart, let me add that I can make it worth your while to be generous.

"It has come to my knowledge that you have sent out Mark Manning in search of your grandson. How you came to suspect that my cousin left a boy I can't imagine, but I don't mind telling you that you are correct. She did leave a boy, whose name is Jack Ransom. He is now about eight years of age. I know where he is and can lay my hands upon him at any moment. Whether I will or not depends on how you propose to deal with me. Of course it isn't to my interest that the boy should be found, as outside of him I am your natural and legal heir. I know that Mark Manning is scheming to get possession of your property when you are gone, but I am sure you wouldn't throw it away on a stranger, when your brother's son is living.

"Now, Uncle Anthony, I am going to make you a proposition. Bear in mind, if you please, that I am the only one who can restore little Jack to you. Only one other person knows about him and she never heard of you, and doesn't know Jack's last name. If you will guarantee me five thousand dollars within three months, two thousand being cash down, I will myself bring on little Jack, and place him in your arms. Now, I am sorry to say that the boy has a miserable home, and is scantily supplied with the necessaries of life. A miserable career of poverty and perhaps crime, awaits him unless you come to my terms. Let me know as soon as possible what you propose to do.

"A letter directed to me at the Chicago post-office will reach me safely.

"Your affectionate nephew,

"Lyman Taylor."

Anthony received this letter in due time, and deemed it of sufficient importance to warrant a visit to New York. He wished to lay it before Mr. Hardy, and ask his advice.

CHAPTER XXIX.

MARK RECEIVES A TELEGRAM

"My good friend," said Mr. Hardy, "have you any reason to think your nephew's statement is to be relied upon?"

"I hope so," answered Anthony. "I am getting to be an old man, and I should like to feel that some one of my own blood would survive me, and profit by a part of the competence which God has bestowed upon me."

"It may be simply a money-making scheme on the part of Lyman," said the agent, thoughtfully. "Finding that he has little chance of becoming your heir, he wants to secure a handsome reward for restoring to you your grandson. Why has he not proposed it before?"

"Because he did not know I had any property to leave, or else because he supposed his own chances of inheriting good. After the last interview with me, he probably lost the hope of profiting by my death."

"There is something in what you say, Mr. Taylor. What is your own idea?"

"I would give five thousand dollars, if necessary, to secure the return of my grandson. It would give me an object to live for."

"I should be exceedingly sorry to see that sum pass into the hands of such a rascal as your graceless nephew."

"Would you offer two thousand?"

"I would hold no serious negotiations with him."

"But I would run the risk of leaving the poor boy to a life of poverty, and myself to a lonely old age."

"My idea is this. I will telegraph to Mark Manning, who is now in St. Louis, the particulars of your nephew's offer, with instructions to go at once to Chicago, find out Lyman, and put a detective on his track. If his story is true, he probably visits the boy from time to time. In this way it can be discovered where the boy lives, and steps can be taken to secure him."

"I approve of your plan," said Anthony. "Let it be carried out at once."

"There will be this advantage," added Hardy. "Your enterprising nephew will not realize any benefit from his nice little scheme for trading upon your affections."

"Do as you think best, my good friend. Your judgment is always better than mine."

John Hardy rapidly penned the following despatch.

"Mark Manning, Planter's Hotel, St. Louis: Go at once to Chicago and find Lyman Taylor. He knows where child is. Employ a detective, and track him to boy's residence. Don't let him suspect your object. Keep me apprised of your progress.

John Hardy."

This despatch reached Mark within two hours. He had been in St. Louis several days, and had learned nothing. Two or three persons had called upon him with bogus information in the hope of a reward, but he was sharp enough to detect the imposition. He was beginning to despair of success when Mr. Hardy's telegram was received. Mark brightened up. He saw his way clearer now.

He went out to purchase a ticket for Chicago, and on his return found a second telegram in these words: