CHAPTER XX.
FELIX MORTIMER DISCOMFITED.
Felix Mortimer sat at a desk facing the door, and was writing when the banker and the two boys entered the room. He did not look up till Herbert and Bob had advanced several steps toward him, and stopped. But his eyes now met theirs, and he sprang to his feet like one suddenly surprised by a lurking enemy. Herbert and Bob stood there for a moment, boldly facing him. Not a word was spoken on either side.
The banker took a position where he could watch the effect of this strange meeting upon both parties. He saw the color fade from young Mortimer’s face, and a look of unmistakable fear spread over it. In fact, his whole manner betrayed the alarm that now possessed him.
In strong contrast to the appearance of this young villain was Herbert Randolph’s frank, truthful look. He had no cause for fear. The peculiar fire that shone in his eyes revealed a meaning that was at once impressive and determined. Before him stood one who had wronged him outrageously, stolen his position away from him, and blackened his character with ingenious falsehood.
Our hero thought of all this, and his blood boiled with manly indignation. Had he been alone with Mortimer, I fear the latter would have suffered then and there the penalty for his villainy. But discretion was now the sensible course for Herbert, and he wisely restrained himself from an unbecoming demonstration of hostility.
“Do you know these young men?” asked the banker, sharply, addressing young Mortimer.
“I know one of them, sir—that is, I saw him here the morning you advertised for a boy,” replied Felix, commencing to rally.
“I recollect the fact. You refer to Herbert Randolph, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I think you told me something about his getting another position, and this, you said, was probably the reason why he failed to continue working at this bank.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Mortimer, with bold effrontery.
“What have you to say to this young man’s statement, Mr. Randolph?” said the banker.
Felix Mortimer’s manner had already raised Mr. Goldwin’s suspicions, but he wished to be doubly sure, and thus he proceeded carefully with the investigation.
“His statement is wholly false,” was our hero’s reply. “It was his miserable villainy that deprived me of my liberty, and kept me away from my work.”
Mr. Goldwin looked puzzled.
“The plot thickens,” said he. “Give me your story.”
Herbert related how he had been victimized, telling the facts much as I have given them in the preceding chapters of this narrative.
“Tell him about the knock out,” put in Bob, who evidently thought this one of the best parts of the story.
“What was that?” asked the banker.
Herbert explained.
“So that was what gave you the swollen jaw, was it?” said Mr. Goldwin, addressing Felix Mortimer in a severe tone.
“No, it was not,” said he. “I told you what did it, and I don’t propose to hear any more lies from street fellows like these,” added Mortimer, contemptuously, and at the same time moving towards the door.
“Stop!” said the banker, firmly. “You will not leave this room till this matter is cleared up.”
Young Mortimer winced, and Bob Hunter looked up at Herbert, and smiled suggestively.
“Mr. Randolph, this fellow stated to me yesterday that you were not from Vermont, that you are an impostor. What have you to say to this?”
“I can only say that I told you the truth.”
“Have you any way of proving your statement?”
“Here is a letter that I received this morning from my mother,” said Herbert, handing it to the banker. “This, I think, will sustain my word.”
“The envelope is postmarked Fairbury, Vermont,” replied Mr. Goldwin, scrutinizing it closely.
“You may read the letter,” said our hero. “It will doubtless convince you of my truthfulness.”
It ran as follows:
Fairbury, Vt., Thursday, November 12th.
My Dear Son:
Your letter reached us this evening, and it lifted a great load of anxiety from our hearts, for we could not help fearing some ill luck might have overtaken you—a stranger and an inexperienced boy in so great a city as New York.
Your father and I rejoice at your good fortune, and feel proud that our boy should be chosen by the banker from among so large a number of applicants for the same position. Your excellent start gives us fresh courage to fight the battle of life over again, and to try and regain our property, or so much of it as will be necessary to support us comfortably in our old age.
Your father’s eyes filled with tears of joy when I read your letter to him, and he said I might tell you that he feels rich in the possession of a son who has health, energy, and good principles, and who has shown himself able to make his way in the world unaided. He thinks you now have an excellent opportunity for commencing a prosperous career. From what you wrote of Mr. Goldwin, the banker, we think he must be a very nice man, and we are heartily glad that you can have his influence thrown about you to strengthen you against the evils you should shun.
We were greatly amused at the picture you gave of Bob Hunter the newsboy. You must find him very entertaining. Write us some more about him. His droll talk reads like a novel. Your father laughed heartily at it.
Be sure and write us two or three times a week, for you know we are entirely alone now you are away. With love from your father and myself, I will say good by for today.
Your Mother.
Mr. Goldwin commenced to read this letter aloud, but before he had finished it his voice choked, and he reached for his handkerchief with which to dry his moist eyes.
The picture it presented of the Vermont father and mother, so deeply interested in their only boy, brought fresh to the banker’s mind his own parental home, and he saw himself once more bidding good by to his father and mother, as he left them and the old farm, a mere boy, to seek a livelihood in the great metropolis.
Presently he overcame this emotion, and turning to young Randolph, said, sternly:
"This letter, which I hold in my hand, not only proves Mr. Randolph’s truthfulness, but it convicts you of a base falsehood. You deceived me by your artful lying, and now you have the effrontery to stand up before me and before this young man, whom you have so cruelly wronged, and boldly deny everything. You are the most polished young villain I ever knew.
“Young man,” continued the banker, addressing Bob, and without waiting for Mortimer to reply, “what do you know about this matter?”
“I guess I know ’bout everything,” said the young detective, glad of a chance to have his say.
“You remarked that it was lucky that you found out something before it was too late for us here at the bank, I believe?”
“Yes, sir, you are right.”
“Will you please tell us the facts?”
Bob related the conversation he had heard between old Gunwagner and Felix Mortimer, relative to bank robbing.
“So that was your scheme in getting in here, was it? you young villain!” said Mr. Goldwin, angrily addressing Felix Mortimer.
“I refuse to answer the charges made by these confederates. They are telling what has no truth in it, and are deceiving you, as you will learn to your sorrow,” replied Felix, still maintaining a good degree of boldness.
Richard Goldwin, however, was too good a judge of human nature to be further imposed upon by the tricks of young Mortimer.
“But you will be forced to answer to the charges sooner or later, sir,” said the banker. “The court will compel you to do so.”
The court!
These words made young Mortimer wince, and his nerve palpably weakened. He muttered some unintelligible reply—whether a threat or not none present knew.
“How came you to overhear this conversation between the old fence and this fellow?” asked Mr. Goldwin of Bob Hunter.
young randolph and bob hunter confront felix mortimer and charge him with his villainy.
The young detective here related the whole story, telling why he suspected Mortimer, how he saw him at the bank in Herbert’s place, how he shadowed him up Broadway—told of the bootblacking scene, in which he got the essential facts from Peter Smartweed and Mortimer; related his manner of gaining admittance to the fence, and told of the trick he played upon the old man and Felix—the trick that enabled him to carry out to success his scheme for liberating Herbert Randolph.
“And you did all of this alone?” asked the banker, with genuine astonishment.
“Yes, sir,” replied Bob, carelessly, as if it didn’t amount to much.
“I cannot realize it,” said Mr. Goldwin, admiringly. “A professional detective could not have done better, and probably would have fallen far short of doing as well.”
“I didn’t think nothin’ of it,” returned Bob. “’Twas easy enough, and ’twas kinder of excitin’, too.”
“And you liked the excitement?”
Bob admitted that he did, but was very modest about his triumph, and was not disposed to look upon it as any great feat now it was all over. But Mr. Goldwin assured him, in most complimentary terms, that great credit was due to him for the skill and bravery he had displayed.
Meanwhile Felix Mortimer had been slyly inching towards a door that was a little to his left; and now that Mr. Goldwin’s attention was centered upon young Bob Hunter, he seized the opportunity, and made a mad plunge for liberty. His movements, however, had been detected by Herbert Randolph, and he no sooner reached the door than the young Vermonter grasped him firmly by the collar, and jerked him back.
Mortimer’s effort to escape prompted Mr. Goldwin to sound the alarm for a policeman. An officer responded promptly, and immediately arrested the young criminal, and took him to the station house, where he was locked into a cell.
“I was never so deceived in a boy in my life,” remarked the banker, with a troubled look, when the officer had gone with his prisoner. “He has a remarkably strong character, and had he taken the right course in life, would have made an able man. It always makes me sad to see a bright boy, just entering upon his career, start in a way that is sure to result in disgrace and ruin.”
“His associates have doubtless had a bad influence over him,” said Herbert, as if trying to soften the boy’s offense.
“It is certainly praiseworthy in you, Mr. Randolph, to speak so kindly of one who caused you so much suffering as that boy did,” returned Mr. Goldwin.
“Well, since his evil purpose has recoiled upon himself, he is now the chief sufferer; and besides, I do not think he wanted to injure me farther than to get me out of his way. And he knew no other plan, I suppose, than to keep me a prisoner.”
“I am glad to see you view the matter so charitably,” said the banker, warmly, for he appreciated highly this glimpse of Herbert’s character.
“But what do you say to old Gunwagner?” put in Bob.
“I think he is a heartless old wretch,” answered young Randolph, with fire in his eyes. “It is he who abused me so cruelly.”
“You say he, too, is locked up now?” asked Mr. Goldwin.
“Yes.”
“Do you think he has any property?”
“I should judge so. In fact, he tried to buy us off when he found we had him cornered.”
“It is possible that you may be able to get damages for false imprisonment,” said the banker, thoughtfully.
“I had not thought of that,” returned Herbert.
“Mind you, I said it was possible only, so do not have too great hopes of such a result.”
“No, I will not, and the damage was not much, unless I lost my situation with you,” replied Herbert, somewhat anxiously.
“No, you have not lost that, for I shall reinstate you at once. You have proved yourself to be the sort of young man I desire in my business.”
“Thank you, sir, for your compliment, and especially for reinstating me. I should be very sorry to lose this position, and I know my father and mother would feel badly, too.”
“Do not worry about that, my boy. Employers are as anxious to get desirable clerks as clerks are eager to be employed. But to return to the matter of false imprisonment, I will state the case to my lawyer, and see what there is in it. Of course it would be no use to fight him if he is worth nothing.”
“He said he had plenty of money—enough to make us all rich,” put in Bob, with some enthusiasm. “It would be a great act to make him come down handsome. I’d like to see it done.”
“Those fellows usually have a lot of money,” said Mr. Goldwin, “and I agree with Bob—I will call you by that name hereafter—that it would be gratifying to recover damages.”
“That’s right, I like to be called Bob—everybody calls me that.”
“Well, Bob, you are a character. I shall take a great interest in your development, for I think you have done the smartest thing, in getting your friend out of old Gunwagner’s clutches, that I ever knew a boy of your age to do.”
Bob’s cheeks became highly colored. He had not been accustomed to praise, and such compliments as these from a rich banker were unwieldy for him.
“Tom Flannery helped me,” said the young detective, generously trying to throw some of the glory upon Tom.
“Tom Flannery! Who is he?”
“He is a fellow what sells papers too. Me and him worked this case up together.”
“What sort of a boy is he—sharp, like yourself, I suppose?”
“Well, he done some good work helpin’ me,” replied Bob, evading the question as to Tom’s keenness.
The fact is that young Flannery was not wonderfully sharp; but Bob liked him for his honest, good natured self, and, therefore, would only speak in praise of him.
The banker drew Bob out, and learned of the fire act that Tom performed so satisfactorily. But his keen sense detected the truth of the matter, and he was satisfied as to where the real merit lay.
“Bob,” said he, “your modesty and your efforts to throw much of the credit on Tom Flannery are certainly becoming to you. I like you for the spirit you show in the matter. But, nevertheless, I recognize in you the chief of the undertaking—the one who planned and carried out the entire scheme. Now, here is a little present for you; I want you to take it and buy you a good suit of clothes, so that you will be as well dressed as Herbert. I believe you room together?”
“Yes, we do,” said Bob. “But I don’t want no present. I can earn some money to buy clothes with.”
“But I want you to take it,” replied Mr. Goldwin. “You have done a great act of kindness to Herbert, and to me as well, for sooner or later we would doubtless have suffered a loss by Felix Mortimer.”
Bob took the crisp new bills reluctantly—four of them, five dollars each—twenty dollars—he had never held so much money in his hands at any one time before, and this was all his own.
He felt bewildered. After a moment’s pause, however, he said, “Mayn’t I give some of this to Tom Flannery?”
“I expected you would say that,” replied the banker, enjoying Bob’s surprise, “so I retained a five dollar bill for Tom. Here it is; give it to him with my regards. He, too, did us a service in aiding you as he did.”
Bob’s joy was now beyond expression. He looked, however, the thankfulness that he could not find words to express.
“You may go now,” said Mr. Goldwin, kindly. “I will keep you in mind, and see what I can do for you. Come and see me within a few days.”
Bob thanked Mr. Goldwin heartily, and left the bank, overflowing with happiness. When the young detective had gone, Mr. Goldwin asked Herbert many questions about him.
“I think he is a promising lad,” said the banker. “I have taken a great liking to him. He has a droll, comical way that is very pleasing.”