CHAPTER XXVII. — A CONFIDENTIAL MISSION.
When Fred met Mr. Wainwright at the office the next morning his employer greeted him with a pleasant smile, but did not stop to speak. Fred felt relieved, for it embarrassed him to be thanked, and since the evening previous no one had met him without speaking of his heroism. Now Fred was inclined to be modest, and he could not possibly feel that he had done anything heroic, though he was quite aware that he had saved the life of Rose Wainwright. He looked upon it rather as a fortunate opportunity for rendering his employer a valuable service.
At one o'clock Fred took his hat, intending to go to lunch. He lunched at a quiet place in Nassau Street, and never spent over twenty-five cents for this meal, feeling that he must give the bulk of his salary to his mother.
He was just going out when he heard his name called.
Looking back, he saw that it was the broker himself who was speaking to him. Mr. Wainwright had his hat on, and seemed about going out, too.
"You must go to lunch with me to-day, Fred."
"Thank you, sir," answered Fred respectfully.
They walked through Wall Street together, the broker chatting pleasantly. On the way Fred met Raymond, who stared in surprise and disgust as he saw the intimate terms on which Fred appeared to be with his wealthy employer. Mr. Wainwright led the way into an expensive restaurant of a very select character, and motioned Fred to sit down at a table with him.
After the orders were given, he said: "I have invited you to lunch with me, as I could not speak at the office without being overheard. Of course the great service which you rendered me and mine last evening, I can never forget. I do not propose to pay you for it."
"I am glad of that, sir," said Fred earnestly.
"I feel that money is entirely inadequate to express my gratitude, but I shall lose no opportunity of advancing your interests and pushing you on in business."
"Thank you, sir."
"Indeed, it so happens that I have an opportunity even now of showing my confidence in you."
Fred listened with increased attention.
"Some months since," continued the broker, "a confidential clerk who had been employed in my office for years suddenly disappeared, and with him about fifteen thousand dollars in money and securities. As they were my property, and no one else was involved, I did not make the loss public, thinking that I might stand a better chance of getting them back."
"But, sir, I should think the securities would be sold, and the amount realized spent."
"Well thought of, but there was one hindrance. They were not negotiable without the indorsement of the owner in whose name they stood."
"Yes, sir, I see."
"Sooner or later, I expected to hear from them, and I have done so. Yesterday this letter came to me from my defaulting clerk."
He placed a letter, with a Canadian postmark in Fred's hand.
"Shall I read it?'" asked Fred.
"Yes, do so."
This was the letter: