“That tall chap, with the scar on his face, that you’ve talked about so often. And, mark my words, he means you no good. But you go down and see what he has to say, and then tell me about it before you give him any promise or agree to do anything that he asks you to.”
“But perhaps he’s not going to ask me anything,” replied the boy. “It may be that he’s come here to do me a favor.”
“Don’t you believe it!” retorted Weyman. “That man never goes anywhere unless it is to get something from somebody. If he offers to do you a favor, be mighty careful how you accept his offer.”
Bruce went downstairs, and was very cordially greeted by the mysterious man who had caused him so many sleepless nights since the first time he had heard of him. He was surprised now to find him so agreeable and kindly in his manner, and in a few moments he forgot his good friend’s caution, and found himself talking to the money-lender as freely and easily as if he had known him all his life. He told him all that he knew of his origin, and mentioned the fact that he hardly knew anything about his father’s family or friends. “I came down here soon after my father’s death, and the chief took me on here, got my pension for me, and has kept me here ever since. When I’m old enough I hope to join the department, and perhaps rise in it.”
“What pension is that?” asked Mr. Dexter, with a sudden gleam of interest in his face.
“The department pays it to me because my father was killed in the service,” replied the boy.
“Then there is no doubt about your being the son of Frank Decker, I suppose,” rejoined the other, in what seemed to Bruce like a tone of disappointment.
“Of course not,” he replied.
“Very well, then,” continued the visitor, “so much the better for you, for you will have no trouble in establishing your identity. As I told you the other day, a legacy left to your father by some distant relatives in England has fallen to you; but in order to get it you will be obliged to go yourself to London, prove who you are, and collect the money in person. I knew your father very well indeed, and it was simply on account of my friendship for him that I have taken the trouble to look you up. I sent that little rascal of a newsboy up to the country to search for you; and if he had done what I told him to do, or if you had come to me at once, you might have obtained possession of your inheritance by this time, to say nothing of saving me a great deal of unnecessary trouble. However, I suppose you could not have helped that.”
“Indeed, sir,” said Bruce, very humbly, “I went up to your house two or three times but could not learn your address, and it was only when Skinny came back to the city that I found out where your office was. It was very kind of you, I’m sure, to take so much trouble for me, and when I get this money I will very gladly pay you for what you have done.”