A CLOUD OVER THE OSKAMP HOME
Tom and Carl walked along together after the other three boys had dropped off at various stages, taking short-cuts for their homes, as supper-time was approaching.
“What’s gone wrong, Carl?” asked Tom, as he flung an arm across the shoulders of his closest chum.
“I was meaning to tell you about it, Tom,” explained the other, quickly; “but somehow I kept holding back. It seemed as if I ought to find a way of solving that queer mystery myself. But only this morning I decided to ask you to help me.”
His words aroused the curiosity of the other boy more than ever.
“What’s this you’re talking about?” he exclaimed. “A mystery is there now, Carl? Why, I thought it might all be about that coming around so often of Mr. Amasa Culpepper, who not only keeps the grocery store but is a sort of shyster lawyer, and a money lender as well. Everybody says he’s smitten with your mother, and wants to be a second father to you and your sisters and brothers.”
“Well that used to worry me a whole lot,” admitted Carl, frankly, “until I asked my mother if she cared any for Amasa. She laughed at me, and said that if he was the last man on earth she would never dream of marrying him. In fact, she never expected to stop being John Oskamp’s widow. So since then I only laugh when I see old Amasa coming around and fetching big bouquets of flowers from his garden, which he must hate to pull, he’s so miserly.”
“Then what else has cropped up to bother you, Carl?” asked Tom.
The other heaved a long-drawn sigh.
“My mother is worried half sick over it!” he explained; “she’s hunted every bit of the house over several times; and I’ve scoured the garden again and again, but we don’t seem to be able to locate it at all. It’s the queerest thing where it could have disappeared to so suddenly.”
“Yes, but you haven’t told me what it is?” remarked Tom.
“A paper, Tom, a most valuable paper that my mother carelessly left on the table in the sitting room day before yesterday.”
“What kind of a paper was it?” asked Tom, who always liked to get at the gist of things in the start.
“Why, it was a paper that meant considerable to my mother,” explained Carl. “My father once invested in some shares of oil stock. The certificate of stock was in the safe keeping of Amasa Culpepper, who had given a receipt for the same, and a promise to hand over the original certificate when this paper was produced.”
“And you say the receipt disappeared from the table in your sitting room, without anybody knowing what became of it?” asked Tom.
“Yes,” replied Carl. “This is how it came about. Lately we received word that the company had struck some gushers in the way of wells, and that the stock my father had bought for a few cents a share is worth a mint of money now. It was through Amasa Culpepper my mother first learned about this, and she wrote to the company to find out.”
“Oh! I see,” chuckled Tom, “and when Mr. Culpepper learned that there was a chance of your mother becoming rich, his unwelcome attentions became more pronounced than ever; isn’t that so, Carl?”
“I think you’re right, Tom,” said the other boy, but without smiling, for he carried too heavy a load on his mind to feel merry. “You see my mother had hunted up this precious receipt, and had it handy, meaning to go over to Mr. Culpepper’s office in the forenoon and ask for the certificate of stock he has in his safe.”
“So she laid it on the table, did she?” pursued Tom, shaking his head. “Don’t you think that it was a little careless, Carl, in your mother, to do that?”
“She can’t forgive herself for doing it,” replied his chum, sadly. “She says that it just shows how few women have any business qualities about them, and that she misses my father more and more every day that she lives. But none of the other children touched the paper. Angus, Elsie and Dot have told her so straight; and it’s a puzzle to know what did become of it.”
“You spoke of hunting in the garden and around the outside of the house; why should you do that?”
“It happened that one of the sitting room windows was open half a foot that day. The weather had grown mild you remember,” explained the other.
“And you kind of had an idea the paper might have blown out through that open window, was that it?”
“It looked like it to me,” answered the widow’s son, frowning; “but if that was what happened the wind carried it over the fence and far away, because I’ve not been able to find anything of it.”
“How long was it between the time your mother laid the paper on the table and the moment she missed it?” continued Tom Chesney.
“Just one full hour. She went from the breakfast table and got the paper out of her trunk. Then when she had seen the children off to school, and dressed to go out it was gone. She said that was just a quarter to ten.”
“She’s sure of that, is she?” demanded Tom.
“Yes,” replied Carl, “because the grocer’s boy always comes along at just a quarter after nine for his orders, and he had been gone more than twenty minutes.”
At that the other boy stopped still and looked fixedly at Carl.
“That grocer’s boy is a fellow by the name of Dock Phillips, isn’t he?” was what Tom asked, as though with a purpose.
“Yes,” Carl replied.
“And he works for Mr. Amasa Culpepper, too!” continued Tom, placing such a decided emphasis on these words that his companion started and stared in his face.
“That’s all true enough, Tom, but tell me what you mean by saying that in the way you did? What could Mr. Culpepper have to do with the vanishing of that paper?”
“Oh! perhaps nothing at all,” pursued the other, “but all the same he has more interest in its disappearance than any other person I can think of just now.”
“Because his name was signed at the bottom, you mean, Tom?” cried the startled Carl.
“Just what it was,” continued Tom. “Suppose your mother could never produce that receipt, Mr. Culpepper would be under no necessity of handing over any papers. I don’t pretend to know much about such things, and so I can’t tell just how he could profit by holding them. But even if he couldn’t get them made over in his own name, he might keep your mother from becoming rich unless she agreed to marry him!”
Carl was so taken aback by this bold statement that he lost his breath for a brief period of time.
“But Tom, Amasa Culpepper wasn’t in our house that morning?” he objected.
“Perhaps not, but Dock Phillips was, and he’s a boy I’d hate to trust any further than I could see him,” Tom agreed.
“Do you think Mr. Culpepper could have hired Dock to steal the paper?” continued the sorely-puzzled Carl.
“Well, hardly that. If Dock took it he did the job on his own responsibility. Perhaps he had a chance to glance at the paper and find out what it stood for, and in his cunning way figured that he might hold his employer up for a good sum if he gave him to understand he could produce that receipt.”
“Yes, yes, I’m following you now, go on,” implored the deeply interested Carl.
“Here we are at your house, Carl; suppose you ask me in. I’d like to find out if Dock was left alone in the sitting room for even a minute that morning.”
“Done!” cried the other, vehemently, as he pushed open the white gate, and led the way quickly along the snow-cleaned walk up to the front door.
Mrs. Oskamp was surprised as she stood over the stove in the neat kitchen of her little cottage home when her oldest boy and his chum, Tom Chesney, whom she liked very much indeed, entered. Their manner told her immediately that it was design and not accident that had brought them in together.
“I’ve been telling Tom, mother,” said Carl, after looking around and making certain that none of the other children were within earshot; “and he’s struck what promises to be a clue that may explain the mystery we’ve been worrying over.”
“I’m pleased to hear you say so, son,” the little woman with the rosy cheeks and the bright eyes told Carl; “and if I can do anything to assist you please call on me without hesitation, Tom.”
“What we want you to tell us, mother,” continued Carl, “is how long you left that Dock Phillips alone in the sitting room when he called for grocery orders on the morning that paper disappeared.”
Mrs. Oskamp looked wonderingly at them both.
“I don’t remember saying anything of that sort to you, Carl,” she presently remarked, slowly and with a puzzled expression on her pretty plump face.
“But you did leave him alone there, didn’t you?” the boy persisted, as though something in her manner convinced him that he was on the track of a valuable clue.
“Well, yes, but it was not for more than two minutes,” she replied. “There was a mistake in my last weekly bill, and I wanted Dock to take it back to the store with him for correction. Then I found I had left it in the pocket of the dress I wore the afternoon before, and so I went upstairs to get it.”
“Two minutes would be plenty of time, wouldn’t it, Tom?” Carl continued, turning on his chum.
“He may have stepped up to the table to see what the paper was,” Tom theorized; “and discovering the name of Amasa Culpepper signed to it, considered it worth stealing. That may be wronging Dock; but he has a bad reputation, you know, Mrs. Oskamp. My folks say they are surprised at Mr. Culpepper’s employing him; but everybody knows he hates to pay out money, and I suppose he can get Dock cheaper than he could most boys.”
“But what would the boy want to do with that paper?” asked the lady, helplessly.
“Why, mother,” said Carl, with a shrug of his shoulders as he looked toward his chum; “don’t you see he may have thought he could tell Mr. Culpepper about it, and offer to hand over, or destroy the paper, for a certain amount of cash.”
“But that would be very wicked, son!” expostulated Mrs. Oskamp.
“Oh well, a little thing like that wouldn’t bother Tony Pollock or Dock Phillips; and they’re both of the same stripe. Haven’t we hunted high and low for that paper, and wondered where under the sun it could have gone? Well, Dock got it, I’m as sure now as that my name’s Carl Oskamp. The only question that bothers me now is how can I make him give it up, or tell what he did with it.”
“If he took it, and has already handed it over to Mr. Culpepper, there’s not a single chance in ten you’ll ever see it again,” Tom asserted; “but we’ve got one thing in our favor.”
“I’m glad to hear that, Tom,” the little lady told him, for she had a great respect for the opinion of her son’s chum; “tell us what it is, won’t you?”
“Everybody knows how Amasa Culpepper is getting more and more stingy every year he lives,” Tom explained. “He hates to let a dollar go without squeezing it until it squeals, they say. Well, if Dock holds out for a fairly decent sum I expect Amasa will keep putting him off, and try to make him come down in his price. That’s our best chance of ever getting the paper back.”
“Tom, I want you to go with me to-night and face Dock Phillips,” said Carl.
“Just as you say; we can look him up on our way to the meeting.”