CHAPTER XII IN THE SICKROOM
The house in which Beth lived was a dreary structure perched on the northern slope of the steep hill above the Works. A dispute, common in the settlement of property boundaries in California, had arisen in regard to the land on which the house stood, and in consequence it had never been painted nor the ground around it inclosed by a fence.
From the interior, however, one overlooked these deficiencies, because of the gorgeous panorama of bay, mountain, and sky that was framed by every window.
Dame Trot, as Ben called her, was the wife of Beth’s stepfather; for the girl’s own mother had died shortly after her second marriage. The home was not congenial to the young girl; but as Mr. Hodges had used all the money which her mother had left, she was compelled to remain under his roof.
Sydney Chalmers was the son of the present Mrs. Hodges by a former marriage.
It was in Mr. Hodges’ house that Ben regained consciousness on the morning of the encounter at the Works.
He was conscious of a severe pain in his head and a feeling of great weakness. Some one was talking, and gradually a dim realization came to Ben that he was the subject of the conversation.
He recognized the voice of Mr. Hodges.
“He’s been trying to mine the inside of the old Smelting Works, and Fish the owner served an injunction on him yesterday, just as he was going to get the clean-up for his day’s work.”
“That’s a strange enterprise,” some one replied. Ben recognized the doctor’s voice.
“Yes; I’m thinking he’s throwing his money away. ’Course he got a little gold, but in my opinion there ain’t enough in the whole shebang to pay for the mule he’s bought.”
“Then, he put money into the scheme?”
“Every cent he had in the world went into it. Crazy! Might just as well stand on the sea-wall and fling his dollars into the bay. Mine chimneys! Don’t you suppose if there was any gold in that chimney, old Madge, who leased the property, would have got it out years ago? He’s got Ben’s two hundred dollars, though; that’s what suits him better than mining soot.” He laughed at his poor witticism.
“Don’t talk about it now,” the doctor said. “He’ll come to, presently.”
Ben opened his eyes to see the doctor bending over him.
“It’s all right, my boy,” he said. “Don’t be frightened.”
Ben dimly wondered where he was. The wound in his breast was painful and he felt very weak.
He noticed that Mr. Hodges was standing at the foot of the bed and he surmised that he must have been carried to his house. He closed his eyes and tried to think over the events of the previous night.
“It wasn’t much of a knife,” the doctor said, “or it would have done more damage. When you feel able to talk,” he kindly said to Ben, “you can tell us all about it.”
The patient nodded and closed his eyes again. Everything seemed slipping from him.
“Guess there ain’t much to tell,” Hodges said gruffly. “It’s pretty certain who done it.”
Ben’s senses faintly rallied at this remark.
“Could it be possible,” he thought, “that they did not know who his assailant was?” He instantly surmised that Hodges suspected Mundon. “Syd must have made good his escape before they found me,” he mentally concluded. “What a coward!”
He lay with his eyes closed a great deal of the time and reviewed the situation. Should he expose Syd? It was hard to keep from doing so when he thought of all he had suffered at his hands. He had been such a brazen thief, too, so shameless in his villainy.
Still, by the ramifications of marriage, he occupied the relation of a brother to Beth; at least she treated him as one, and he lived under the same roof with her. Besides, his family had received Ben in his helpless state and were caring for him.
A sudden generosity pleaded with him not to expose the culprit. It was such a noble impulse, so far above the standards to which he was accustomed that he was almost ashamed to follow it, and tried to belittle it by placing a value upon it. He said to himself half-contemptuously: “There wasn’t more than thirty or forty dollars in the amalgam, anyway, and that’s a low price for a reputation. When he finds out that I haven’t told on him he can return the gold. At any rate, I’m going to give him a chance.” He resolved upon this course, although it annoyed him that Mundon should be suspected, and he felt that he must exonerate the latter.
“You said just now, Mr. Hodges, that you were pretty certain who—who did this to me.”
“Yes, I did; and I am,” emphatically replied Mr. Hodges. “It’s that man Mundon you’ve been taken in by who’s done it.”
“You’re all wrong,” Ben answered. “He had nothing to do with it.”
“Where was he then? Where is he now?”
“He had to find a place for the mule; then he went down-town to sleep. Of course, he couldn’t sleep in the room we built, because the place doesn’t belong to us, they say.”
Mr. Hodges looked the doubt he felt.
“Let him give an account of himself first, Ben, before you’re too sure of his innocence.”
“He’ll come around just as soon as he hears of this.” Ben closed his eyes wearily, but suddenly opened them again. “There he is now. I can hear his voice!” he cried, as Mundon appeared.
“Well, Ben my boy, how’d this happen?” Mundon’s distress was too genuine to be doubted.
“I saw a man taking the amalgam, and I tried to stop him. We got into a fight over it and he scratched me a little; that’s all.”
“All! Isn’t it enough?” Mundon indignantly cried. “How white you are, Ben! Why, you’re almost faintin’ away now.”
“No; I’m all right,” Ben hastened to say.
“You don’t look it. What sort of a lookin’ man was he?”
Ben closed his eyes. “I don’t know. It was dark, you know.”
“’Twas bright moonlight,—and there’s a lot shines through the holes in the roof on a clear night. Ain’t you got no idee what he looked like?”
Ben shook his head.
Mundon reflected a moment. “That’s queer, Ben. You don’t tell us enough about the man for us to git hold of anything,” he said. “I’d like to git at him. You had a tussle with him, yet you don’t say whether he was fat or thin, or tall or short. We ain’t got nothin’ ter go by.”
Ben smiled faintly. “What’s the use of going? We couldn’t afford to hire a detective; it would cost more than the clean-up amounted to. Besides, the fellow’s got away by this time.”
“You ’pear to take it mighty easy like. Might have killed you. I’d like ter give him a good drubbing on my own account,” said Mundon.
Hodges cast a lowering look from one to the other. He was too stubborn to relinquish at once his theory that Mundon was guilty; yet the man’s bearing and conversation were puzzling.
“He’s the boldest chap that ever lived, and Ben’s the greatest fool, or else I’m on the wrong tack,” he reflected. “I b’lieve I’ll find out whether he turned up at his hotel at three o’clock in the morning or not.”
As soon as he heard the front door close upon Mundon, Ben called out to little Jim, who hung around the bed in mute sympathy, “Where’s Syd?”
“He didn’t sleep at home last night,” the boy replied.
Mr. Hodges looked surprised, and there was an awkward pause, during which Ben thought best to close his eyes again.
“He said last night that he was goin’ to stay all night with Tom Miles, ’cause they was goin’ clammin’ early this mornin’,” Jim added.
“Then, why didn’t you say so in the first place?” his father said, as he strode from the room.
Ben’s pale cheeks had grown quite pink.
“Jim,” he said in a low voice, “will you do something for me!”
“Sure!”
“Well, I wish you’d find out where Syd is and tell him I want to see him. You can tell him how I got hurt, and that nobody knows who did it. Tell him that the doctor says I’ll be all right in a few days.”
“Is there anything else you’d like, Ben? ’Cause if there is, I’ve got a dollar and fifty-five cents what I’m a-savin’ up to buy a ‘safety’ with, and I’d jest as soon take some of it as not.”
“No, thank you. Just do that one favor for me, and it’s all I’ll ask.”
Jim departed, and in an hour or so reported that Sydney could not be found. Tom Miles had expected to dig for clams, but as Sydney had failed to put in an appearance he had given it up. Inquiry at the store where Sydney was employed developed the fact that he had not been seen there since the evening before.
Shortly afterwards Beth and little Sue paid Ben a visit. By a few adroit questions Ben saw that they had no suspicion of Syd’s part in the night’s work.
“If you’d only made the thief give up the gold it would have been some satisfaction,” Beth said.
“Yes, that’s so. But this is only a scratch, anyway.”
“You’ll have to be careful, the doctor says.”
“I mean to be; but it frets me so to stay in bed that it does more harm than good. I want to see Mr. Hale.”
“Yes; and you want to find the robber.”
“Of course, if I can,” Ben wearily agreed. “But I sha’n’t waste much time on him.”
Ben had plenty of time for reflection during his enforced stay in bed. Ever since the day of the injunction, when Mundon had mentioned the name of the owner of the land, he had been haunted by the thought that he had known or heard something of the man before, but it was not until the second day after the robbery that it suddenly flashed upon him that he was the man of whom the mysterious Chinaman had spoken.
“Fish!” he exclaimed, and little Jim, who was hovering about his bed, was for getting him some at once.
“I was only thinking aloud,” Ben explained. “I don’t want any fish,” and added with a grim smile, “I’ve had enough of that article already.” At which Jim looked thoroughly puzzled.
“What possible connection could there have been between a band of Chinese smugglers and Mr. Fish, the wealthy miser?” Ben asked himself. “He was there on that first day, so Mundon said, and the Chinaman may have overheard something of his plans. I’ll fight him—see if I don’t, when I get out of this!”
His impatience to be able to investigate the affair increased hourly. He must see the Chinese and find out what he had meant by his strange warning.
As he had not told Mundon about the Chinaman’s offer, he decided not to tell him of his resolve to visit him. Aside from his former suspicions, a love of adventure made him anxious to undertake the thing alone.
He was forced to wait a week before he was well enough to leave the house. During this time Sydney had not been heard from. His mother would not permit a public announcement to be made of his disappearance, claiming that it was probable that he had met a cousin from San Jose and had gone to that city for a visit. Whether she had any suspicion of the truth or not, Ben could not determine; but she put an end to all open speculation on the part of the family as to the whereabouts of the absent one, by emphatically declaring, “Syd’s old enough to take care of himself. He’s my flesh and blood, and so long as I don’t fret about him I don’t see as any one else needs to.”