A Boy's Fortune

"Why?" asked Francois, considerably surprised. "Is it because my little Marie is sick?"

"Plague take your little Marie! It is because you have helped the boy to escape."

"How could I help him, sir?"

"Some one must have unlocked the door of his room. Otherwise, he could not have got out."

"I don't know, monsieur," said Francois, assuming ignorance.

"When did you first see him?"

"I had walked about a quarter of a mile," said Francois, mendaciously, "when he ran up and overtook me. I told him to go back, but he would not. He followed me, and came here."

"This story is by no means ingenious," said the doctor, shaking his head. "When you stand up in a court of justice you will see how the lawyers will make you eat your words. And very likely they will send you to prison."

"Oh, no! Don't say that!" said poor Francois, much frightened. "What would become of my poor wife and child?"

"You should have thought of them before this."

"Oh, Monsieur le Docteur, you will save me from prison!" exclaimed poor, simple-minded Francois.

"On one condition."

"Name it, monsieur."

"Let no one know that the boy has escaped."

"I will not, if you desire it."

"You see, it will be bad for me as well as for you. It was very important to keep him – very important, indeed – and his friends will call me to account. But they need not know it, if you remain silent."

"No one shall hear me say a word, Monsieur le Docteur," said Francois, promptly.

"That is well. In that case I will overlook your disobedience, and allow you to return to your place."

"Oh, monsieur is too good!" said Francois, who did not by any means anticipate such magnanimous forgiveness.

"When can you come back?"

"When monsieur will."

"Come, then, this evening. It will be in time. I will allow you to spend the day with your family, since your child is sick."

The doctor turned his horse's head, and drove back to the asylum.

Three days after he wrote to Major Grafton:

"My Dear Sir: Your ward is rather sullen, but quiet. He was at first disposed to make trouble, but the firm and effective discipline of the institution has had the usual result. I allow him to amuse himself with reading, as this seems to be the best way of keeping him quiet and contented. His insanity is of a mild kind, but it is often precisely such cases that are most difficult to cure. You may rely, Monsieur Grafton, upon my taking the best care of the young gentleman, and, as you desired, I will especially guard against his obtaining writing materials, lest, by a misrepresentation of his condition, he might excite his friends.

"I thank you for your promptness in forwarding my weekly payments. Write me at any time when you desire a detailed account of your ward's condition."

M. Bourdon signed this letter, after reading it over to himself, with a complacent smile. He reflected that it did great credit to his ingenuity.

"Some men would have revealed the truth," he said to himself, "and lost a fine income. I am wiser."

In due time this letter reached Major Grafton.

"That is well," he said to himself. "I am rather sorry for the boy, but he has brought it on himself. Why must he be a fool, and threaten to blab? He was living in luxury, such as he has never been accustomed to before, and he might rest content with that. In me surely he had an indulgent master. I rarely gave him anything to do. He could live on the fat of the land, see the world at no expense to himself, and have all the advantages of a rich man's son. Well, he has made his own bed, and now he must lie in it. On some accounts it is more agreeable to me to travel alone, and have no one to bother me."

To avert suspicion, Major Grafton left the Hotel des Bergues and took up his quarters at another hotel. At the end of two weeks he left for Italy, having arranged matters satisfactorily by sending M. Bourdon a month's payment in advance, an arrangement that suited the worthy doctor remarkably well.

CHAPTER XXXI.

A Wanderer in France

A boy toiled painfully over a country road but a few miles from the city of Lyons. His clothes bore the marks of the dusty road over which he was travelling. It was clear by his appearance that he was not a French boy. There is no need of keeping up a mystery which my young readers will easily penetrate. This boy was our hero, Ben Baker. He was now more than half way to Paris, and might have reached that gay city days since but for his limited supply of money. When he gave Francois a hundred francs he nearly exhausted his limited capital, but there was no help for it.

He had travelled a hundred miles on the railway, far enough to be beyond the danger of pursuit and the risk of a return to the asylum, which he could not think of without a shudder. Now he would walk, and so economize. He had walked another hundred miles, and had reached this point in his journey. But his scanty funds were now reduced to a piece of two sous, and he was between three and four thousand miles from home. This very day he had walked fifteen miles, and all he had eaten was a roll, which he had purchased in a baker's shop in a country village through which he had passed in the early morning.

Hopeful as Ben was by temperament, he looked sober enough as he contemplated his position. How was he ever to return home, and what prospect was there for him in Europe? If he had been in any part of America he would have managed to find something to do, but here he felt quite helpless.

He had walked fifteen miles on an almost empty stomach, and the result was that he was not only tired but sleepy. He sat down by the way-side, with his back against the trunk of a tree, and before he was conscious of it he had fallen asleep.

How long he had been asleep he did not know, but he was roused suddenly by a touch. Opening his eyes, he saw a man fumbling at his watch-chain. The man, who was a stout and unprepossessing-looking man of about thirty-five, wearing a blouse, jumped back with a hasty, confused exclamation.

"What are you doing?" demanded Ben, suspiciously.

He spoke first in English, but, remembering himself, repeated the question in French.

"Pardon, monsieur," said the man, looking uncomfortable.

Ben's glance fell on his chain and the watch, which had slipped from his pocket, and he understood that the man had been trying to steal his watch. In spite of his poverty and need of money he had not yet parted with the watch, though he suspected the time would soon come when he should be compelled to do so.

"You were trying to steal my watch," said Ben, severely.

"No, monsieur, you are wrong," answered the tramp, for that was what he would be called in America.

"How came my watch out of the pocket, and why were you leaning over me?" continued Ben.

"I wanted to see what time it was," answered the man, after a minute's hesitation.

"I think it is fortunate I awoke when I did," said Ben.

His new acquaintance did not choose to notice the significance of the words.

"Monsieur," he said, "I am a poor man. Will you help me with a few sous?"

Ben could not help laughing. It seemed too ridiculous that any one should ask money of him. He took the two-sous piece from his pocket.