CHAPTER XIV A CRIME DISCOVERED
Mr. Hale was in his office, when Ben reached there; but the latter concluded that he would hear the result of the lawyer’s investigation first, reserving his bit of information until afterwards.
“Well, my boy,” said Mr. Hale, whirling around in his chair, “I’m sorry not to have better news for you.” A kind light shone in his eyes. “We’ve got a hard old customer to deal with, I’m afraid. I’ve had the records searched and the entries of the lease were found to have been duly and properly made.” He tilted back in his revolving chair and put the tips of his fingers together. “I don’t see what we’re going to do about it. We’ve run up against a stone wall, without, apparently, a cranny in it. I say apparently, because one never knows what developments may turn up. It’s a case of manifest injustice, but such cases are of daily occurrence.”
“Something has turned up,” Ben said, when Mr. Hale had finished.
“Ah, so you’ve got some news. Let’s have it.”
Ben related his conversation with the Chinese.
Mr. Hale was astonished. “I can scarcely believe that that old miser would meddle with the records,” he exclaimed. “It looks very like it. Yes—if what Ng Quong says is true, Fish is a grasping old shark; but—what object could he have?” he mused.
“I’ll tell you!” exclaimed Ben. “The lease is just as he says it is. But there must have been some mistake in placing the dates on the record, and that mistake was in our favor.”
“It may be so. And the old fellow was so angered in being baffled after he’d made sure that the law was on his side,—he was so angered that he went to the length of changing the figures.”
“That sounds like the truth, Mr. Hale.”
“I think you’ve struck it, Ben; but it’s such an amazing thing that it seems incredible. He’s shrewd, but he’s overreached this time. Yes. For a man of his means to tamper with the records for the sake of the money you expect to make! To what length will not money-grasping take a man!”
“What are you going to do about it, Mr. Hale?” Ben could not resist asking the question.
“I’m going to have a microscopic examination made of the records, and if what we think is so, he shall pay dearly”—he brought his fist down on the desk in front of him—“for his bad work. I’ve got several old scores to his account that I’d like to settle.”
“How long will it take?”
“To make the examination? About five minutes.”
“What a weapon it will be!”
“Exactly. But you must cultivate patience when you have anything to do with the law.”
“Do you think he’s alone in the matter? I mean do you think he did it himself?”
“No. Undoubtedly he hired some one to do it. We must find his tool.” Mr. Hale was as eager as a sportsman when he has caught sight of his game. “We can get the Grand Jury after him—if it’s true,” he gleefully added.
Ben rose.
“Then there is nothing to do at present but—”
“Wait,” supplied Mr. Hale, smiling. “Come in to-morrow at this time. I may have some news.”
Ben resolved not to tell Mundon of the new developments in the case until he knew the result of Mr. Hale’s investigation. It was hard work keeping the new hope to himself. Mundon was so depressed that Ben longed to brighten him with the story of the day’s events.
On the afternoon of the following day Ben found himself impatiently awaiting Mr. Hale’s return from court.
When he caught sight of the latter’s beaming face he knew that the result was favorable.
“It’s all right, my boy,” the lawyer exclaimed. “It’s just as we thought. I’ll have you mining again, before you’re many days older.”
“The dates had been changed?” Ben’s voice was a little uncertain.
“Yes—and a bad, bungling job they made of it, too. I’m surprised my clerk didn’t notice it in the first place. But, of course, he wasn’t looking for such sharp work as that. By the way, I told a reporter on the Gazette—you know they keep a man around the City Hall on the lookout for news—who came to see what my expert was about.”
“Then it’ll be in the papers.”
“Well, I told him all he wanted to know. You’re not afraid of the papers, are you?”
“No,—I’ve done nothing that I’m ashamed of.”
“Exactly. To-morrow morning Mr. Fish’s large circle of enemies will read with pleasure that he has been caught at last.”
“There’s another reason why I’m glad the whole story’s going into print.”
“About that opium business?”
“Yes. I think it will clear me from any suspicion of being connected with the ring. I’d like the real reason to be known for my being in Ng Quong’s house.”
“Well, ’twill be now.”
Ben went straight from the lawyer’s office to Mundon. The latter was looking more disconsolate than ever. Even the mule seemed to have caught his state of abject misery.
“I’ve just ben thinkin’ how I could get out of this old town,” Mundon said. “If I could manage to get to Cripple Creek, I’d be able to get on my feet again.”
Ben did not reply, and Mundon glanced at his face.
“Why, Ben, you look as you’d heard some good news.”
“So I have, partner, mighty good news. Wo-o-w!” He flung his cap above their heads. “We’re going to beat that muckery pair, Fish and Madge, sure’s you’re born!”
“Either you’ve gone plumb crazy, Ben, or else— Tell me ’bout it, boy! How’d you down ’em?”
During the recital of the story, Mundon gave Ben a keen glance when he came to the part relating to Ng Quong.
It was an awkward moment for both; and Ben regretted his silence at the time the incident occurred.
“You forgot to mention the Chinaman’s visit at the time,” Mundon remarked. “But time’ll tell, Ben, and I ain’t never ben afraid of time.”
On the day following the investigation, the Gazette published the story of the “Smelting Works Claim.”
Ben read the account aloud to Mundon, sitting on the fence outside the Works. Of course, in the tale, Ben was made a hero and Mr. Fish a double-dyed villain.
“They haven’t got him black enough to suit me,” said Mundon, fiercely whittling the stick he held. “I hope they’ll paint him blacker and blacker every day for a year.”
There were two items of news in the article, however, that Ben had not foreseen,—the simultaneous disappearance of Mr. Fish and one of the clerks in the City Hall.
“Now that there’s no one here to stop us, I’d like to smash open those gates and finish our work.”
Mundon shook his fist at the gates, which glowered back at him. “I’ve ben turnin’ over in my mind all that there slag that’s under the old wharf. I b’lieve there’s heaps of copper and lead buried there.”
“No wonder you’ve been depressed—with all that on your mind,” commented Ben. “I’m to know to-day just how long it will be before the injunction can be raised. Mr. Hale says this hard-luck story of ours will hurry things—it’s going to create sympathy for our case.”
“Well, it oughter. Say, Ben, just let me drop through that hole in the roof and do a little work on the quiet?” Ben shook his head. “’Twon’t do no harm. You kin set here and watch.”
“No, Mundon, not for a million!”
“How easy it is to talk about refusin’ a million—when you’re young!”
“This thing’s going to be square on my part. I’ve made up my mind to stick to that,” Ben answered. “Hello! That boy looks like Mr. Hale’s office boy.”
He sprang down from the fence and tore open the envelope which the boy gave him.
“Hurrah! Mundon—we’ve won!” Ben cried. “It’s ours, and you can smash those gates as soon as you please!”
Mundon slid down from his perch and, seizing a piece of scantling, struck the old gates a mighty blow that started the nails from the wood.
“There!” he said. “That does me good! I’ve wanted to smash ’em ever since those smarties came and nailed ’em up.”