CONCLUSION
Mr. Graylock half rose from his chair, and bent low over the table to stare at the documents; then as if unable to believe that his sight told him the truth he dug his knuckles into his eyes and stared again.
Every eye was fastened upon him, and he seemed to realize that his sin had indeed found him out, for finally with a groan that welled up from the depths of his tortured heart he fell back into his chair.
Then he heard the clear voice of the president saying:
"We all deserve to be congratulated, Mr. Graylock—the bank, at the recovery of the valuable papers entrusted to its care; and you, sir, because your good name has been saved, and your creditors will receive all that your estate will produce. It is a great thing to be able to look your friends and neighbors in the face, Mr. Graylock, when such a misfortune overtakes a man in business, although every one may not think so."
Surely this was gall and wormwood to the defeated trickster, who had been caught trying to defraud those who had trusted him.
He writhed and twisted in his chair, until a shred of his former assurance came back to him; when he managed to look up with a sickly smile, and almost whispered:
"Yes, it is a great thing. I suppose I ought to thank you, Gibbs, for saving me the added humiliation of exposure. And the strange discovery of the securities, where they must have been placed during a temporary fit of absent mindedness, will, of course, clear the air, so that no one now need be suspected of any criminal intent."
It was a bold bid for secrecy, and while Mr. Gibbs might feel a contempt for the wretched man now before him, at the same time he believed it would be policy to keep the story quiet for a short time.
"How long before you leave Riverview, Mr. Graylock?" he asked, quietly.
"I think I can say in three days more; yes, by Monday evening I shall have departed," replied the other, eagerly, catching at a straw.
"Very well, then, for three days those of us in the secret will agree not to whisper one word of this sad affair. After you have departed the promise holds no longer. There will be no prosecution, Mr. Graylock, though perhaps I am doing wrong to promise that; but I shall walk over with these securities in half an hour, and hand them to the assignee with the simple remark that they have been found. I think there is nothing further to say, sir."
It was a polite way of telling Mr. Graylock that they could dispense with his company, and getting unsteadily to his feet he made for the door.
Before going out he had the decency to turn his face toward them, and say:
"I thank you all, gentlemen; you have been more considerate with me than I deserve. Good-day."
Mr. Gibbs turned to Dick.
"Now Richard, you can go, and please remember that while the finding of the securities may be announced, not one word to a living soul about the truth until after Mr. Graylock has left town for good. He does not deserve it, but we will spare him that added humiliation. Just now I presume he is the most wretched man in the State. And Richard, please ask Mr. Winslow to step in here for a minute, since I believe he knows what Mr. Cheever intended doing."
The teller obeyed the summons with alacrity, and doubtless heard all about the outcome of the little game he and Dick had planned; at the same time being bound to secrecy until the limited time had passed.
Of course there was great rejoicing among the creditors of the defunct firm when the fact was made known that the missing securities had come to light, and that there would be another hundred thousand dollars divided up among them; but no matter how curious they might be they were unable to learn where the papers had been hidden; though some who knew Mr. Graylock best had their suspicions.
And three days later, as he had said, Mr. Graylock vanished from Riverview, with his wife and son, going to Boston; nor did any of them ever show their faces again in the town where for years the merchant had held his head so high.
The story soon became common property, and for a long time his name was held up to ridicule and execration by those he had swindled.
Some years later Dick learned that the Graylocks had gone South, and with some money advanced by a relative purchased a few acres of land in Florida, where they devoted their attention to raising celery for the northern market; but just how successful they were, or what progress Ferd was making toward overcoming his faults, he never knew.
They had passed out of the life of the little river town; and after a time the name of Graylock was seldom mentioned; for another firm had taken up the big store, and was making it a success by honest dealing.
Some years have passed since the events narrated in this story occurred.
Most of those with whom we have come in contact still remain in Riverview, and the town has prospered quite in proportion to others in the State.
Mrs. Morrison still lives happily in her rose embowered cottage, which of course has been enlarged and vastly improved; for the legacy came to hand in due time, and Dick had his den, while she enjoyed the luxury of a fine bathroom.
She has never dreamed of marrying again.
Two or three times old Hezekiah Cheatham drove around that way to drop in and chat with the buxom widow, whose charms he could now appreciate since she had fallen heir to a neat little fortune; but Dick took him gently aside and gave him plainly to understand that his mother disliked his attentions very much; and that as for himself he was averse to having a step-father; so the old bachelor ceased his pilgrimages in that quarter.
Mr. Gibbs is still the head of the bank, and his right hand man is Ross Goodwyn, the clever cashier, who will soon step into the position of his employer, when the latter retires.
Mr. Payson is the paying teller, but Mr. Winslow finding his health failing him, and being warned by his physician that he had better seek a climate that was dry, intends leaving for Colorado in another month.
It is pretty generally understood that he will be succeeded by Richard Morrison, who has been acting as his under-study for some time.
Dick is a tall, manly looking fellow now, the pride of his mother's heart; and prosperity has not changed his genial, straight-forward nature a particle.
One of his best friends is Mr. Cartwright, the old miller, and frequently they sit and chat of the days long since gone by when Dick found his first job in the employ of the other.
Occasionally Dick has found an opportunity, on holidays, to go out to the dear old fishing hole, and interview a few of his friends, the bass; his ability to capture the wily finny denizens of the river still holds good, and usually he returns home with a full string.
He never visits the old place without thinking of that day when he heard Bessie Gibbs raising her voice in laments over the impending fate of her darling Angora kitten, and the memory always brings a smile to Dick's face.
Bessie is now finishing her schooling at a college; but she and Dick correspond faithfully, and during vacation times they seem inseparable.
He still thinks her the prettiest and sweetest of her sex, and as for Bessie—well, it hardly seems fair to peep into the sacred recesses of a young girl's heart, but she is never one half so happy as when with Dick, and whenever she looks at the little scar on the back of his left hand she shudders, remembering that fearful day when he burst in upon them just in the nick of time, and in his usual energetic way quickly extinguished what might have been a serious conflagration.
Mr. Gibbs, of course, has his eyes about him and understands what this intimacy is bound to end in eventually; but he seems perfectly satisfied that it should be so.
He cannot expect to keep his darling child with him always, and since these things must be he is content with the way events have come about.
The wise man who could read boy character as well as he did on that never-to-be-forgotten day when he sent Dick, still resting under suspicion in connection with the missing securities, out to his home to bring back a valuable packet, feels confident that he has made no mistake, and that he can trust the happiness of Bessie to his keeping.
Mr. Gibbs always declares that he never made an investment in his whole life that brought him in such quick and magnificent returns as his decision that day to put a boy upon his honor; and he hardly dares picture what might have happened had he failed to read the truth lying back of those clear eyes of Dick, the Bank Boy.