CHAPTER V.
THE CONTEST BETWEEN HERBERT AND FELIX.
Presently the inner doors of the banking house were thrown open, and a gentleman of perhaps a little more than middle age stepped lightly into the corridor, where the boys awaited his arrival. He had a kindly face, and a sharp but pleasant blue eye.
All seemed to know intuitively that he was Richard Goldwin, the banker, and consequently each one made a dashing, but somewhat comical effort to appear to good advantage.
“Good morning, boys,” said the banker, pleasantly, “I am glad to see so many of you here, and I wish I was able to give each one of you a position. I see, however, that many of you are too young for my purpose; therefore it would be useless to waste your time and mine by further examination.”
In a little time the contest had narrowed down to but two, and they were Herbert Randolph, and the boy who had so ineffectually attempted to drive him away.
“What is your name?” asked the banker of the city lad.
“My name is Felix Mortimer.”
“Felix Mortimer?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Mortimer, Mortimer,” repeated Mr. Goldwin. “The name sounds familiar, but I can’t place it. Do you live in New York?”
“In what part of the city?”
“In Eleventh Street, sir—on the East Side.”
“Well, you appear like a bright boy. Are you ambitious to work your way up in a solid, reliable business?”
“Yes, sir, I am; and banking is just what I would like.”
“And you are willing to work hard?”
“Yes, sir, I think I could satisfy you that I am.”
“What is your age?”
“I am seventeen years old.”
“Have you ever worked in any business house?”
“Yes, I have had two years’ experience in business.”
“You commenced rather young—so young that I am afraid your education was neglected.”
“Well, I was a good scholar in school; here is a recommendation from my teacher.”
Richard Goldwin read the letter, which purported to be signed by the principal of a well known school.
“This speaks well of you,” said the banker.
Felix looked pleased, and cast a triumphant glance at Herbert, who sat at a little distance off, anxiously awaiting his turn to be examined. He was afraid the banker might settle upon young Mortimer without even investigating his own fitness for the position.
“For what firm did you work?” asked Richard Goldwin.
“For Wormley & Jollup,” replied Felix, firmly.
“The large trunk manufacturers up Broadway?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Why didn’t you remain with them?”
This question would have confused some boys, had they been in the place of Felix; but it did not affect him in the slightest degree, though the keen and practiced eye of the banker watched him closely.
“Why, don’t you remember that Wormley & Jollup had a big strike in their factory?”
“Yes, the papers printed a great deal about it.”
“Well, you see, they couldn’t get any trunks made; so business got dull in the store.”
“They wouldn’t give in to the strikers, I believe?”
“No; and the result was they had to let a lot of us go.”
“It was an unfortunate affair. But I suppose you got a recommendation from Wormley & Jollup?”
“Yes, sir,” said Felix, with all the assurance of one who was telling the truth; “there it is—signed by Mr. Jollup himself.”
The letter was highly complimentary to Felix Mortimer.
“No one could ask for a better recommendation than this,” said the banker, looking as if he thought he had found a prize in the boy before him.
Had he suspected that this very recommendation was forged, he would have been angry. Now, however, he felt quite the reverse; and decided to give Herbert a hearing more as a matter of courtesy than otherwise, for he had practically settled upon young Mortimer for the position in his banking house.
Felix saw this and could hardly restrain his happiness, as he saw pictured on the young Vermonter’s face unmistakable discomfiture.
“Well, you may be seated,” said Mr. Goldwin; “I wish to see what this young man has to say for himself before engaging any one.”
“So you came from Vermont, right from the farm?” said the banker to Herbert, after a few minutes’ conversation.
“Yes, sir,” returned young Randolph.
“And I suppose you expect to make your fortune in this city?”
“I have not got so far along as that yet, sir. I hope, however, that I shall do well here.”
“You look like a plucky lad, and those red cheeks of yours are worth a fortune. I remember well when mine were as full of rich young blood as yours are now. I was a country lad myself.”
“Then your career shows that a boy from the country may make a success.”
“Yes, that is very true. Many of our most successful men came from the farm; but I assure you, my boy, that success is not an easy thing to pick up in a big city. The chances are a hundred to one against any boy who comes here from the country. If, however, he does not succumb to temptation, and has sufficient pluck and perseverance, he can do well in this city.”
“I am quite ready to take that hundredth chance,” said Herbert, in a way that pleased the banker.
“Well, I admire your courage, young man, but now to return to business. Suppose I were to give you a situation, how could you live on three dollars a week? You say you have no means, and must earn your own living. I cannot pay a larger salary at first.”
“I am sure I can manage that all right, sir; one can do what he must do.”
“That is true; your ideas are sound there, surely. What is your age?”
“I am nearly seventeen, sir.”
“You are so strongly built, perhaps you could get a place where more money could be paid for your services; some place where heavy work is to be done.”
“I am not afraid of hard work, for I have always been accustomed to it; but I would much rather have a chance where there are good prospects ahead.”
“Again you are right,” said the banker, now becoming interested in the young Vermonter. “What is your education?”
“I passed through our district school, and went for several terms to the Green Mountain Academy. I have taught three terms of school.”
“Three terms! You certainly must have commenced young.”
“Yes; I was not very old. I got my first school when I was fifteen.”
“Do you write a good hand? Please come to this desk, and show me what you can do.”
Herbert complied readily with the request, and was most happy to do so, for he had spent many hours in practicing penmanship, and now wrote a beautiful hand.
Richard Goldwin was surprised when he took up the sheet of paper and ran his eye over the well formed letters.
“Mr. Mortimer, will you please show me what you can do with the pen?” said the banker.
Felix rose to his feet, and the color rose to his face. He wasn’t very powerful with the pen, and he knew it; but another matter disconcerted him. He feared, and well he might, that his writing would resemble, only too closely, that in the recommendation which he had shown to Mr. Goldwin. But he was equal to the emergency, and, to make the disguise perfect, he gave to his writing the left hand or backhand stroke. This was done at the expense of his penmanship, which, however, would not have been considered absolutely bad, had it not been compared with the gracefully and perfectly cut letters of Herbert Randolph.
The banker looked at both critically for a moment, and then, after a pause, said:
“Mr. Mortimer, I would like to speak with you alone.”
The latter followed him to the outer office.
“Your manner pleases me, young man,” said Mr. Goldwin, pleasantly, “and with one exception I see but little choice between you two boys, but that little is in your competitor’s favor.”
The color left Felix Mortimer’s face.
“I refer,” continued the banker, “to his penmanship, which you must acknowledge is far superior to your own; and a good handwriting adds much to one’s value in an office of this sort. I see you are disappointed, and I knew you would be. Do not, however, feel discouraged, as it is possible I may do something for you yet. If Mr. Randolph should prove unsatisfactory in any respect, he will not be retained permanently. You may, therefore, if you choose, run in here again in a day or two.”
Young Mortimer was greatly disappointed and even deeply chagrined, for he had supposed himself more than capable of holding his own against this unsophisticated country lad. Had he not attempted to bully him while waiting for the banker and failed, thus arousing a spirit of rivalry and hostility between young Randolph and himself, he would of course have felt differently, but now an intense hatred was kindled within him, and with burning passion he determined upon revenge.
Felix Mortimer went direct from Richard Goldwin’s banking house to the Bowery, and from there he soon found his way to a side street, which contained many old buildings of unattractive appearance. The neighborhood was a disreputable one. Squalor was on every hand, and many individuals of unsavory reputations made this locality their headquarters. One of these was Christopher Gunwagner, a repulsive specimen of humanity, who had been in business here for several years as a “fence,” or receiver of stolen goods.
To this fence Felix directed his steps.
“Good morning, Mr. Gunwagner,” said young Mortimer, briskly.
The former eyed him sharply for a moment.
“What do you want now?” growled the fence by way of reply. “Why don’t you bring me something, as you ought to?”
Felix cut him short, and at once proceeded to business.
“I came,” said he, “to get you to help me and thereby help yourself. I’ve got a chance to get into a bank——”
“Into a bank?” interrupted Gunwagner, now interested.
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“On Wall Street, in Richard Goldwin’s banking house.”
“If you don’t take it, you’re a fool. Goldwin’s, hey?” he went on; “we can make it pay us; yes, yes, we are in luck.” And he rubbed his thin hands together greedily.
“I expect to take it as soon as I can get it,” said Felix; and then he described the competitive examination between himself and the young Vermonter.
“So you want to get him out of the way, eh?”
“You have struck it right this time. That’s just what I want, and propose to do.”
“And you expect me to help you?”
“Certainly I do. To whom else should I go?”
“I haven’t quite got the plan yet, and want your advice. You see if I can get him out of the way for a few days, so he won’t show up, why old Goldwin will take me in his place. If I can once get in there, and remain till I get the run of things, we can have it our own way.”
gunwagner and felix agree upon a plan.
Gunwagner’s face grew more and more avaricious. The plan looked well to him, and he felt it would be a great thing to have Mortimer in a rich banking house. The possibilities of bold pilferings from the heaps of gold were most tempting to him, and he was now quite ready to commit himself to any feasible scheme to carry out Mortimer’s evil design. The old fence was an unscrupulous man, and he was ready to go to almost any length in crime to avail himself of an opportunity so tempting to his greed of gain.
The two confederates discussed the matter for some time, and at length they agreed upon a plan of action, which boded ill for our hero.